


the red of wings and roses

by elinciacrimea



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, F/F, Falling In Love, also not either established relationship or a ridiculously slow burn this time! go me!!, melady & galle are just friends in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-21 16:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 42,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18706114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elinciacrimea/pseuds/elinciacrimea
Summary: Under a rosebush, a princess meets her knight for the first time. Some years later, they meet again. The rest isn't a fairytale, but it's magical all the same.This is a very soft M, but darker than my usual fare. Warning for some mentions/brief discussion of suicide, implied sexual content, and a fair bit of blood. Nothing is very explicit, but use your own discretion!





	1. wings

**Author's Note:**

> I used both serenesforest.net's translation of the Binding Blade script and the FE6 localization patch by gringe (hosted on the serenesforest forum) to write this, although I did a lot of rewriting to suit my purposes. I did do some tweaking to the timeline, and not every scene from the game is included, but this should be largely canon compliant!
> 
> Names are taken from the official localization used in the CYL polls and (when applicable) Blazing Blade.

Guinivere's favorite color is red.

Red like fresh strawberries over cream, red like her mother's favorite lipstick, and prettiest of all - red like the roses that grow on the big bush in the castle garden, big fat blooms that curl around and over each other, a beautiful disorganized mess.

Mother can't go outside often anymore, but she loves the roses, and that's why Guinivere is trying to pick one today.

"Ow!" Guinivere pulls her hand back from a biting thorn and sucks on her wounded finger. This always looked so simple when Mother or the palace gardener did it! What was she doing wrong? Now there's red on her hand too, but a bloody red, not a nice red. Guinivere will probably get scolded later. Still, she has no intention of returning empty-handed, and so Guinivere readies the clippers taken earlier from the palace shed and prepares to strike once more. But she's not quite tall enough to reach the top of the bush where the prettiest roses grow, and while she stands on tiptoe to get the shears within clipping distance, she doesn't have a free hand to hold the flower steady. Once again, the stem dances tantalizingly out of her reach, leaving Guinivere a tight ball of frustration.

"Drat!" It's the naughtiest word she knows. She's not going to be able to bring Mother a flower, and Mother hasn't gotten out of bed in three days, and the healers are looking gray and worried, and Mother looks so sad and pale and maybe if Guinivere could bring her a flower again she would smile one more time…

Guinivere screws up her face to try and stop the tears, but they come anyway. She scrubs fruitlessly at her cheeks, trying to make them go away. No tears, no tears. Be strong for Mother and Father. She's a big girl and a princess and she shouldn't cry.

But she cries anyway, the garden shears falling out of her hand and into the grass, and curls up under the shade of the rose bush with her face on her knees. Stupid, stupid Guinivere can't even pick a flower, and she's messed it all up.

She wishes Zephiel was here.

"Hello? Is somebody back here?"

Guinivere starts. Her face is a mess. She shouldn't let anyone see her -

A girl is walking through the garden towards her. "Hello? I thought I heard crying."

Guinivere stares. The girl is a stranger to Guinivere, probably not a palace worker or anything, and she's wearing a simple tunic and leggings. But what catches Guinevere's attention is bright, pretty red hair, a shade Guinivere has never seen on a person's head before.

The girl spies her and rushes over. "Oh, no! Are you hurt?"

Guinivere sniffles. The girl drops to her knees beside her so they're both crouching in the grass. "You're bleeding!"

"Oh...my hand." Guinivere looks down at her reddened palm. "It's...not so bad. Just stings a little."

"Here." The girl takes a handkerchief out of her pocket and wraps it around Guinivere's injury, tying it tightly with a knot. "You need to put pressure on it so it will stop bleeding!"

"Oh…" Guinivere knows that, but her mind was elsewhere. "Thank you…"

The girl tilts her head. "You look sad."

"I want to pick a rose," says Guinivere finally. "But I can't seem to do it. I need an extra hand."

"I can be an extra hand," the girl offers. "Which one?"

Guinivere picks up her clippers and gets to her feet. "That one there, the big one…"

"Wow, it's really pretty!"

"Thank you! My mother planted this when she first came here, a long time ago." Guinivere stands on tiptoe again. "Hold it steady...there!" She successfully cuts through the rose's stem, and it falls into the girl's other outstretched hand. "We did it!"

"We did." The girl offers her the rose, and Guinivere takes it.

"Thank you so much! Um…" Guinivere pauses. "What's your name? I've never seen you here before."

"Melady," says the girl. "My father brought me here to see the castle. He's a general in the army - he's a wyvern knight."

"Really? That's so cool! I'm Guinivere. I'm eight! How old are you?"

"I'm eight, also. I want to be a wyvern knight like my father, and I've been training. I'll be old enough to start training in the real army in just a few years." Melady looks excited, but scared too. "Father thought it would be a good idea for me to see the castle."

"So do you have a wyvern?" Guinivere asks.

"I do."

"Wow! I've never gotten to ride a wyvern. Father says it's unsafe, and maybe when I'm older." Guinivere blows her bangs out of her face with a huff. "It looks like so much fun…"

"I didn't bring my wyvern today, but maybe I can take you for a ride one day."

"Oh, thank you! I'd like that! Your hair's really pretty, too. Do you put colors in it like my governess does?"

"Oh, no. It just grows like that." Melady tugs at a straight red lock.

"It's so nice! It matches the roses. Red's my favorite color," says Guinivere cheerfully.

"Melady? Melady, where have you gotten off to?"

The voice comes from elsewhere in the gardens. Fright dances across Melady's face. "Oh, no! That's my father. He said I wasn't to wander off. I'm going to get in so much trouble…"

"Don't worry!" says Guinivere reassuringly. "If I'm with you, you won't get in trouble. C'mon!" She takes Melady's hand and leads the taller girl back along the garden paths towards the voice, her rose prize still clenched tight in one hand.

"If you're with me, I won't get in trouble…?" Melady's brow furrows. "Wait, Guinivere, who are you?"

They arrive where two older men are standing together in the garden - a tall, imposing figure in deep blue armor next to a familiar face in purple robes.

"Melady," the armored man scolds. "I told you to stay close while we were here in the palace. I only turned my back for one minute - "

Melady hangs her head in shame, and Guinivere steps quickly forward. "Wait, wait! It was my fault. She heard me crying and came to help me."

Melody's father blinks. "Princess Guinivere?"

Melady's head snaps up. "Princess?"

Desmond puts a placating hand on the general's arm. "Now, now. If it was to help my daughter, we can surely make an allowance, can't we? What did she help you with, dearest?"

"She tied up my cut!" Guinivere holds up her hand with Melady's handkerchief wrapped around it. "And she helped me pick a rose for Mother."

"Oh...a rose for your mother? That's a lovely idea…" Desmond suddenly looks much sadder.

"I don't want Melady to get in trouble, Father!" Guinivere uses her best pleading eyes, the ones that work on the entire palace staff, Zephiel, Father, and Mother combined. "Don't let her get in trouble. She was only being kind!"

Desmond shakes himself. "If you say so, Guinivere, then of course. Well, thank you, Miss Melady. I appreciate you helping my daughter. You showed great chivalry."

Melady bows. "Th-thank you, Your Majesty."

"Surely she won't be punished for this, General? She helped a member of the royal family. Is that not what the wyvern knights of Bern are sworn to do?"

"...I suppose," says Melady's father. "Very well."

Guinivere turns back to Melady. "See! I told you you wouldn't get in trouble!"

"I guess not." Melady bows again. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Not Your Highness! Guinivere! And no bowing! We're friends, aren't we?"

"Friends? I suppose we are." Melady is smiling when she straightens up. It looks very pretty against the red of her hair.

"I suppose that concludes our business here," Melady's father is saying to Desmond. "Thank you for allowing me to bring her, Your Majesty. It was a valuable learning experience."

"You're leaving already?" Guinivere pouts.

"I'm afraid I have other business, Princess Guinivere." Melady's father bows. "Come along, Melady."

"You'd better become a dragon knight, Melady," says Guinivere sternly. "That way, we can see each other again. And you need to take me on a wyvern ride!"

"Right." Melady's smile looks even bigger. "I promise. I'll come back then, okay?"

"Okay!" Melady and her father head towards the garden exit. Melady watches Guinivere over her shoulder, and Guinivere waves until they're out of sight.

"She's nice, Father," says Guinivere. "I can't wait to see her again."

"Hm...weren't you going to bring that flower to your mother, Guinivere?"

"Oh, right!" Guinivere holds up the bloom. "Isn't it pretty, Father?"

"It is. Very red. Your mother will love it." Desmond looks sad. "Make sure you have a healer take a look at that hand, too."

"Right, right. Hey, Father? Where's Zephiel? He hasn't been over to play in weeks…"

"He's...very busy, Guinivere." Desmond is stroking Guinivere's hair. "You needn't worry yourself about him."

"Is he mad that I lost his baby fox?" Guinivere bites her lip. "I'm awfully sorry about that...I think it just slipped away…but he's only been to see me a few times since then..."

"No, nobody could be mad at you. How do you even remember that fox? That was so long ago."

"But I feel really bad about it…"

"If he is mad at you over something so foolish, than that is his problem, not yours. Besides, what need have you of him?" Desmond shakes his head. "You have many better people to play with. Now, run along and bring that flower to your mother."

"...Yes, Father. Oh, Father? Do you think I'll get to see Melady when she's a wyvern knight?"

"I suppose." Desmond gives a wave of his hand. "Run along, now. I have more business to attend to."

Mother's room is quiet, with the curtains drawn and lights dim. Guinivere thinks she's sleeping, but she opens her eyes when she hears Guinivere's footsteps on the carpet.

"Is that you, Guinivere?" Her mother smiles. "What have you been up to?"

"I brought you a flower," says Guinivere, holding it out. "One of your favorite roses. But be careful...it's still got the thorns on."

Her mother takes the flower delicately between thumb and forefinger. "Ah...it's very pretty. Thank you, Guinivere."

"When you feel better, we can pick lots and lots of them."

"Of course, darling."

"...Mother?"

"Yes?"

"I made a friend today. Her name's Melady. She has pretty red hair."

"Really, now?"

"Yes, and she's going to be a wyvern knight, and she promised to take me riding on her wyvern." Guinivere leans against the big four-poster bed, watching her mother's pale face. "It's going to be lots of fun!"

"Hmm...I'm not sure your father will like that."

"I'll be bigger then, so I'll be able to do what I want!"

"Will you, now…?"

"Mmmhmm…" Guinivere peers into her mother's face. "You don't look so good, Mother…"

"Oh, don't worry. I get these spells, remember? I'll be better in no time...but I could use some rest…" Her mother's eyes are starting to flutter shut again.

"...Mama?" Guinivere's voice is small.

"...Don't...worry…" Her mother's grip slackens on the rose, and then a cleric rushes in and ushers Guinivere out of the room.

***

After that day, the healers never let Guinivere in to see her mother again.

Two weeks later, she is dead.

Guinivere's never faced the idea of "dead" before. Of course she knows what the word means. She's not a baby, even if everyone treats her like one. But Mother's gone, and she's never coming back, not ever, even if she wants to, and even though Guinivere understands that, she feels like she doesn't really believe it.

Father has a locket made for Guinivere, with a shiny green stone the color of her mother's eyes. There's a lock of Mother's hair tucked inside, a black curl framed in gold. It's pretty, and it makes her think of Mother, but it's not the same as having Mother there. Not at all.

On the day they bury her, Guinivere makes a wreath of red roses and branches, just how Mother taught her to (and nobody's going to weave flowers into Guinivere's hair, not anymore) and rests it on Mother's grave. The funeral is small, and everyone wears black. Mother hated wearing black, Guinivere thinks. She always thought it was drab and ugly. Mother wouldn't have liked that. Mother liked bright, happy colors, and singing, and laughter. But none of those things were at her funeral. Just a little group of people standing around the grave. They're putting her in the royal graveyard, where they'll all be one day. And people are angry about that, Guinivere heard, but she doesn't understand why.

Zephiel comes for the funeral and holds Guinivere's hand all the way through, and that makes it a little better. Desmond cries over the grave, begging Mother to come back, but Guinivere doesn't understand. The dead can't hear them, after all. Mother would want to come back, but she can't. Father shouldn't bother her about something she can't do. Queen Hellene, Zephiel's mother, is there too, wearing black and a quiet, pensieve expression. Guinivere has only ever glimpsed her from afar, and she's never stood this close to her. And that's everyone. Mother didn't have any family except for them. She used to be a gardener at the palace, Father said once, and she grew up an orphan, so there's nobody to come.

The preacher had given a little speech, but he's gone now. Father is still kneeling over the grave, so Guinivere figures they shouldn't leave yet. She clings to Zephiel, wanting to be anywhere else, not this sad, dreary place that Mother would have hated. It's probably full of ghosts, too. Not that Guinivere believes in ghosts, or monsters under the bed. She's a big girl and a princess and she has to act grown up...

"Guinivere?"

Guinivere starts at the sound of her name and ducks behind Zephiel's legs, almost automatically.

"I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm sorry." Queen Hellene bends down a little. "I just wanted to speak with you."

Guinivere pokes her head out. "Speak with...me?" Queen Hellene has never spoken to her. Hellene hardly ever even _looks_ at her. And she always looks so stern. Not like her son, all friendly and smiley.

"I'm sorry about your mother, child." Hellene fidgets slightly. "I...do not intend to replace her, but I hoped I would be able to...be of some comfort to you?"

Guinivere looks nervously up and down. "Oh...um, thank you." Is "thank you" the right thing to say? Guinivere doesn't know.

"Away from my daughter, witch! You're not content with all you have stolen from me?"

Guinivere jumps. Father has stood up from Mother's grave and is storming towards them. He looks like someone lit his eyes on fire.

Hellene straightens. "I have stolen nothing from you, Desmond - "

"You had a hand in all this, didn't you? You couldn't have me, so you took her away!"

"What?" Hellene's mouth falls open. "Of course not! If Zephiel hadn't told me I wouldn't even have known - "

"I see through your lies!" Desmond grabs Guinivere's arm and yanks her roughly away from Zephiel. "Get away from them, Guinivere - you don't belong with them - these murderers!" Spit flies from his mouth, his eyes are red with tears and fury, and a vein is popping in his neck.

"Father, it hurts…" Guinivere pleads, trying to tug free. He doesn't even seem to hear her.

"Father, please!" Zephiel grabs Desmond's arm. "Lady Talia had been ill since before Guinivere's birth - "

"How _dare_ you even speak her name?" Desmond slaps Zephiel across the face with his free hand. The crack pierces the gray air, and Zephiel is knocked off his feet. He lands on the rose wreath on Mother's grave, and the snap of it breaking rings through all their ears.

"Don't hit him! How could you?" Hellene shrieks, running to Zephiel.

"Both of you - off her grave! Away from her!" Desmond's scream is louder than any of them.

Guinivere cries out, fruitlessly struggling in Desmond's grasp. "Please, stop! Stop it! I don't want to fight! I want to be a family! I don't want fighting!"

"It's all right, Guinivere," Zephiel manages, rubbing his jaw and getting to his feet. "We'll just - we'll just get back to our quarters - "

"You'll get out of my palace, is what you'll do! This kingdom was never meant to be yours - "

"Let go!" Guinivere screeches. "Let go, let go, let go - you hurt Zephiel - let go!"

Desmond finally hears her, releasing her arm as if burned. Guinivere runs to Zephiel, sobbing, and he picks her up.

"She goes to you," Desmond hisses out, his voice low and dark. "Of course, you aren't content with taking only her mother - "

"I wanna go home," Guinivere pleads. "Brother, let's go home."

"I - I can take her back to the castle," Zephiel stammers. "If that's - "

Desmond isn't listening. He and Hellene are fighting again, their angry voices ringing through the quiet cemetery. Guinivere thinks the horrible sound of it all will make all the ghosts stay deep in their graves.

Zephiel sighs and then turns and leaves, his and Guinivere's guards trailing after them. Guinivere keeps her face buried in his shoulder, clinging to his jacket.

"Why…" Guinivere whispers into Zephiel's shirt. "Why are they fighting?"

"...I wish I knew, Guinivere. I wish I knew."

"I don't like fighting."

"I don't either."

"We don't have to fight...do we?"

"Of course not. Don't cry, okay? It'll be all right. We'll put new flowers on your mother's grave later, when everyone's calmed down."

"...'kay." Guinivere turns her head, watches the graveyard disappear behind them and hears Desmond and Hellene's shouting erased by the gray wind.

That was the first day she ever feared her father.

***

After Guinivere's mother died, Hellene and Zephiel moved into the castle. There was a lot of fighting and angry voices about it, although Guinivere didn't understand all of them. Father wasn't happy about it. Father never seemed happy anymore, no matter what Guinivere did to try and make him smile like he used to.

Guinivere was happy, though. Without Mother, she was terribly lonely. And now she got to see Zephiel nearly every day! Sometimes Father would get mad if she and Zephiel played together, so they would just go to places Father didn't like, like the kitchens or the stables or, most of all, the castle garden. After Guinivere's mother died, Father never wanted to go there.

Hellene, though, reminds Guinivere of ghost stories. She sometimes catches glimpses of her pale face around corners or in large groups, and she's usually at mealtimes, but whenever Guinivere gets close she seems to disappear.

Guinivere's a little disappointed by that. A stepmother wouldn't be Mother, of course, but the idea sounded nice. And even though Zephiel tried to make lots of time for Guinivere, and at least stopped in to say hello most days, he was really busy since he was going to be king someday. He had sword lessons and horseback riding and tutoring and all kinds of classes that Guinivere wasn't allowed to take because they were too dangerous for little girls, Father said.

Only she wasn't little! She was nearly nine now! Nine was big enough to do things. She could at least learn to use a staff or something...but no, Father said not until she was older.

Guinivere pouted her way into the sitting room, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw someone was already sitting in her favorite chair.

Hellene looks up, eyes wide. "Oh...Guinivere."

"Hello, Queen Hellene," says Guinivere quickly. "Sorry. I didn't know you were here. I didn't want to bother you, so I'll…"

"It's...not a bother. You may stay if you wish." Hellene shifts in her seat a little. "But you don't have to."

"I'll stay." Guinivere sits down on the sofa near Hellene. She squints. "What's that?"

"Oh...just a bit of embroidery." Hellene holds up a small hoop with a piece of white cloth in it. There's an intricate flower pattern sewn on the cloth.

"Wow!" Guinivere forgets her nerves and leans forward. "It's really pretty! You made that?"

"Yes...it's a pastime of mine. Do you know how to sew, Guinivere?"

"No…" Guinivere grumbles. "I can only knit. Father says I'm too young for needles and I'll get hurt…"

"Hm." Queen Hellene purses her lips. "Do you want to try a few stitches? I won't tell your father."

Guinivere ponders her options. The exciting one wins out. "Sure! What do I do?"

"Come sit." Hellene scoots sideways in the armchair a little and pats the spot left behind. Guinivere climbs in. It's a slightly tight squeeze, but they both fit.

"Here…" Hellene expertly weaves the needle through the thin fabric a few times. "See? Now you try it. Here...and here…I'll hold the cloth for you."

Guinivere takes the proffered needle. "What if I mess it up?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm just doing this for fun. I don't mind how it ends up looking."

"Okay…" Tongue between her teeth, Guinivere carefully stabs through the fabric with the needle and brings it up again. "Hey...I did it!"

"Just like that." says Hellene. "Good job. You can do a few more if you like."

"Okay!" Guinivere busies herself. "Queen Hellene?"

"Just Hellene is fine."

"Okay, Hellene...do you know how to sew lots of things?"

"Mostly just decorations like this. A lot of flower patterns. It's considered a good pastime for ladies in Etruria."

"Etruria?"

"Yes...I was born there, and I moved here to get married, a long time ago. Before you were born."

"Oh...I've never been there. They have flowers there?"

"Of course, silly girl. Everywhere has flowers. The castle had such beautiful white lilies…"

"Oooh!" Guinivere finishes another stitch, and Hellene turns the hoop to show her where to go next. "I want to see the Etruria flowers...I like red roses best."

Hellene smiles. It's a little shaky, and her body seems very tense next to Guinivere, but it's still a nice smile. "Maybe one day you can come see them. I haven't been to Etruria in a long time. Perhaps one day I'll be able to show you, and Zephiel too."

"That sounds fun!"

"Here, give it another turn...there you are." Hellene adjusts the fabric again, and Guinivere continues her work. They sit quietly for a few minutes, Guinivere carefully tugging the needle through and over again.

"That's a very pretty necklace, Guinivere," Hellene says at last.

"Thank you! It's a locket. It's got a piece of Mother's hair in - " Guinivere clamps her mouth shut. She's not supposed to talk about her mother in front of Hellene.

"Well, it's very nice," says Hellene smoothly. "It matches your eyes. Such a pretty green."

Hellene seems nice, Guinivere muses. A little nervous, but nice. And fun. Nobody ever lets Guinivere do anything, and Hellene's letting her sew!

The parlor door opens, and with it comes a familiar voice. "Mother? And...Guinivere…?"

Guinivere looks up. "Hi, Brother! Look, look! I'm sewing!"

"Oh, I see." Zephiel's eyes are wide as he walks into the sitting room. "Er…"

"She wanted to try embroidery," says Hellene, as if commenting on the weather. "Would you care to sit with us?"

"Certainly." Zephiel sits down on the sofa near their chair. "It looks very pretty. You're doing an excellent job, Guinivere."

"Thank you!" Guinivere beams. "Hellene showed me!"

"I'm glad." And Zephiel does look glad, really really happy, maybe even happier than when Guinivere made him a birthday cake, and he looked really happy that day. "It's nice to see you two having fun together."

"I promised, didn't I?" says Hellene softly, and Guinivere doesn't know what Hellene's talking about, but she's enjoying all the happiness in the air and doesn't give it much thought.

"Hellene's gonna take me to Etruria!" says Guinivere. "And we'll go to the palace, and see all the pretty flowers!"

"Oh, will you now?"

"Yes! And you can come too, Brother. Right, Hellene?"

"Of course, of course," says Hellene. "You can be my honored guests."

"I'd like that," says Zephiel, his voice very quiet. There's still a big smile on his face.

"Let's go tomorrow!" Guinivere cheers, spurred on by all the encouragement.

"I don't think we can go tomorrow," says Hellene.

"Aw…" Guinivere sighs. "When?"

"Maybe in a few months."

"That's not too long!" says Guinivere, perking up, and as she does so, misses the next stitch. "Ouch!" A bead of red blood rises where the needle pricked.

"Oh, dear." Hellene looks down at the finger. "Here…" She withdraws a lace handkerchief from her dress pocket and wraps it around the little wound. "Pinch that tight, it'll stop the bleeding."

"Yeah, I know…" Guinivere pinches. "Sorry, Hellene."

"It's not a problem. I pricked myself plenty when I was first learning - "

"Guinivere? Are you in here?"

Guinivere looks up and sees her father standing in the doorway. "Oh, hello, Father! We were - " And then she stops. Desmond's face looks dark and angry.

He's going to yell now. She should have known better.

"What…" Desmond hisses out. "are you doing with _my child,_ Hellene?" He says her name like it's an insult.

"Guinivere wanted to learn how to sew," says Hellene calmly. "I showed her."

Desmond marches over to the chair and scoops Guinivere up. "I _told_ you to stay away from - she's bleeding!"

"It's just a prick!" says Guinivere quickly. "From the needle - I did it to myself! Don't get mad - "

"I'm not mad at you, dear," says Desmond to her, and then looks back to Hellene. "I knew it. I knew you would - "

"I would what?" Hellene asks calmly. "She simply made a mistake with a sewing needle, Desmond. There's no need to be unreasonable."

"You're calling _me_ unreasonable?"

"No, no!" Guinivere wiggles, trying to escape Desmond's arms. "No yelling! Not like at Mother's funeral - "

Desmond looks down at Guinivere. "You aren't hurt anywhere else, are you?"

"Of course not! Let me down! I'm too big for carrying!"

Desmond sets Guinivere on the floor. "Run along and play, Guinivere."

"I wanna stay with Hellene - " Guinivere cuts herself off when she realizes Desmond is turning purple. "I mean - "

"Let's go, let's go, Guinivere," says Zephiel quickly. "We shouldn't - "

"You stay here too, boy!" Desmond opens the door. "Go, Guinivere. You have lessons."

"No, I don't have any today, they're not til - "

Desmond pinches his forehead. Guinivere slams her mouth shut. "I mean...I'll go study." She scurries out of the parlor.

Guinivere runs to her room, heedless of servants turning around and staring, and pulls the covers over her head. She can't actually hear anything from this far away, but the sound of her father and stepmother yelling after the funeral won't stop echoing in her brain, the sharp points of cruel words making her head hurt.

She must have fallen asleep. Eventually, someone lifts the covers off her. "Princess Guinivere?"

"What?" Guinivere blinks at the sudden light, and then makes out her governess bending over her. "Oh..."

"I was bade to bring this to you, Princess." The governess hands her a small square of white fabric. Guinivere stares at it a moment, and unfolds it. It's a floral design, and Guinivere can make out her few clumsy stitches among the neat patten. And there, at the top of the stem Guinivere had been painstakingly struggling along, is a tiny, brilliantly red rose, every stitch in place.

***

"Brother?"

"Yes, Guinivere?"

"Why do your mother and our father fight so much?" Guinivere bites her lip as she surveys the chessboard, and then painstakingly pushes her only remaining bishop forward.

Zephiel looks up at her over the little wooden pieces. "Why...are you asking?"

"'Cause yesterday, when Father made me leave the parlor...they were gonna fight again, weren't they? Like at Mother's funeral."

Zephiel soundlessly moves a pawn. "Yes, I suppose."

"And…" Guinivere's frown deepens. "Sometimes Father's mean to you too. How come?"

"Oh...well, Father's very strict. I suppose I fall short of expectations sometimes. It's your move."

"Uh…" Guinivere selects her knight. "I don't get it, I think. You're not short, you're really tall..."

"It's nothing, Guinivere. Really, don't worry about it. It's not something you need to think about." Zephiel picks up his queen. "Checkmate."

"What? Already?" Guinivere pouts. "This game is hard."

"I did offer to take some of my pieces away so it would be easier..."

"No, no! I wanna win fair and square! Another round."

"All right, all right." Zephiel sets about resetting the board.

Guinivere bounces up and down on the cushions Zephiel had stacked on her chair so she could see the chessboard. "I'll win this time!"

"Maybe you will! You did take one of my knights this go."

"Yeah, yeah! I'll be a chess _master."_

"Why did you want to play?"

"'Cause you like it, Brother! I wanna play games you like sometimes! We always play my games."

"That's nice of you, Guinivere." Zephiel is lining up the pawns.

The parlor door creaks open, and King Desmond steps inside. Zephiel springs to his feet, still holding Guinivere's queen in one hand. "Father?"

"Your mother is dead."

The wooden queen slips from Zephiel's fingers and clatters onto the floor. "...What?"

"She flung herself off the tallest tower in despair." Desmond shakes his head, but there is a sardonic smile curling around his lips. "What a tragedy."

Zephiel staggers. "That...can't…"

"Nobody could survive such a fall, I'm afraid."

"No - " Zephiel's whole body is shaking, his voice jerky and disjointed. "She was just - we were just - beginning to - "

"I wouldn't advise you go outside right now. She's left a dreadful mess."

Zephiel sinks to his knees. Guinivere doesn't know what to do, so she just runs to him and crouches at his side, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"She left this note behind, you know." Desmond holds up a scrap of parchment. "Damning her monstrous son, who drove her to such desperation. A terrible shame. But then, you ought to read it yourself." He tosses the paper to the ground, and it skids across the floor, landing at Zephiel's knees. Zephiel picks it up in trembling hands, cradling it like an injured child. "What a dreadful child you are, to bring such misfortune to your own mother."

"She…" Zephiel's eyes are blank. "She...said she...loved me…"

"Zephiel, don't be a fool." Desmond's next words will ring in Guinivere's ears for twenty years to come. "How could anyone love _you?"_

Hellene's funeral is the very next day. It's even smaller than the one for Guinivere's mother. Only a few people are in attendance, and her coffin is placed without ceremony in the plot reserved for lesser royals and concubines, instead of the royal plot where a queen would be normally buried. Guinivere wonders if Hellene's family in Etruria even knows about it.

Zephiel doesn't speak a word the entire time they bury his mother. His face is gray, drawn, and empty. Still, Guinivere holds Zephiel's hand all the way through, like he did for her not very long before.

Something broke in Zephiel that day, Guinivere later reflects. Something died in him along with his mother.

No - _was killed_ in him, along with his mother.

Once she's older, Guinivere will wonder how Hellene would have reached the tallest tower unnoticed, without aid of a wyvern. Why she hadn't had a single guard or lady-in-waiting at her side. And why her suicide note was unsigned.

***

For the last four years, Guinivere has always gone to the wyvern knight trials held in the outdoor arena. Not that she was really expecting anything, but ever since that day in the garden, her interest in wyverns was piqued. And they are beautiful animals, if a bit rough around the edges.

Today, she's brought Zephiel. Maybe it'll make him happy. Precious little seems to make him happy these last few years.

"And we sit down here, and Father's in that tower over there," Guinivere points, "with the Dragon Generals! They're going to pick the best riders, and let them join the army! The riders come into the arena through that door. They're all the ones that graduated basic training, but that's only the first step. If they want to be real soldiers of Bern, they have to pass here! First there's a race, and then there's a javelin throw, and finally mock battles. And at the end Father and the others will judge who did well enough to get let into the army, and how well they did will influence how important a position they get!"

"Ah," says Zephiel. "You know a lot about this."

"I like wyverns! All the soldiers get trials like these, but I only go to the wyvern ones." Guinivere bounces in her seat. "Father says because Bern has such a strong military, we have to have high standards, so we have lots of tests!"

"Father's never brought me to one of these," Zephiel murmurs.

"Well, they are a little boring," says Guinivere quickly. "Father probably just didn't want you to be bored, is all." Even to her own ears, the excuse sounds feeble.

"Perhaps." Zephiel's voice is faint.

Guinivere fidgets in her seat, set high enough in the arena that she can see the whole stage. "Look, look, they're coming in!" She squints. The trainees are almost all clad in black and deep blue armor, leading their wyverns behind them, brought in by a commander and overseen by the Dragon Generals from on high. Even General Murdock has stepped away from Zephiel's side to take part in viewing and judging the trials.

Guinivere narrows her eyes still further, trying to see the trainees.

"Are you looking for someone in particular?" Zephiel asks.

"Oh, you know...anyone interesting…" Guinivere bites her lip, looking more carefully as more and more people enter the hall. And then - among the sea of navy, there is a gleam of red, and Guinivere's heart lifts.

She only gets that brief glimpse before the crowd shifts again, moving into formation. There's no way Guinivere can count, with everyone constantly moving - it's a good several dozen soldiers, at the very least.

"And what is happening now, Guinivere?"

"Oh!" Guinivere stops scanning the crowd. "They're dividing up into groups for the race! There's gonna be...it looks like five races!" The rest of the soldiers file off to take seats on the other side of the arena. "Because there's so many, you see. We can't have them all race at once."

"Of course not."

The referee fires a thunder tome into the sky, and the first race begins. Guinivere has selected her and Zephiel's seats carefully. They're high up enough to see the whole track, but close enough that the wyverns ruffle Guinivere's hair and Zephiel's cape as they flash past beneath them, a blur of wings and scales that leaves Guinivere on the edge of her seat and has even Zephiel leaning forward in interest. Four races pass without incident, and even though Guinivere watches carefully, there is no additional flash of scarlet. Just as she is beginning to think she imagined it, the fifth group takes position, and _there_ \- perhaps a twist of fate, but the outermost wyvern rider, the one closest to her, is wearing bright red armor.

"Oh, that one's wearing red," says Zephiel, confirming that Guinivere is not, in fact, imagining things out of a fervent hope. "I rarely see wyvern riders wearing atypical colors - other than the Dragon Generals, I suppose."

"Technically, it's allowed. At least, as far as I know?" Guinivere bites her lip, thinking. "I'll ask later. Can you see the rider?"

"Not very clearly," says Zephiel. "It might be a woman, though."

Guinivere strains to see, but she's not as tall as Zephiel and can only make out a red blur. "A woman, huh?"

The referee fires again, and the wyverns take off as one. The red fleck is firmly middle-of-the-pack for the first two laps, much to Guinivere's initial disappointment - but as the third lap begins, it starts to pull forward, until it's neck-and-neck with the previous leaders.

"Look!" Guinivere hops to her feet, leaning over the edge of the box. "The red one's winning!"

"They conserved their wyvern's energy by holding back for the first two laps," Zephiel muses. "A simple strategy, but a clever one. It seems most of the others didn't bother with it - too eager to show off, I suspect."

Indeed, the crimson rider has made it firmly ahead of the pack - as they whiz past, Guinivere's hair is flipped over her face, and she spits it out, sputtering. "Oh, they're nearly there!"

It's only by a second, but the crimson rider finishes first in the race, skidding to a midair halt after crossing the finish line. The rider removes her helmet and shakes out vivid red hair.

Guinivere is practically dancing. "Did you _see_ that, Zephiel? She's amazing!"

"She is very fast," says Zephiel. "I see you've picked your favorite."

"Well," says Guinivere, blushing, "I like red."

The javelin throws are all held at once, with different judges - in the crowd, Guinivere can't locate the crimson rider, hard as she tries (and she makes Zephiel look too, but he is similarly unsuccessful.) Afterwards, there's the first round of elimination, and about a third of the riders leave the arena.

"She wouldn't get eliminated if she won the race, right?" Guinivere shades her eyes with a hand. "I wish I had opera glasses!"

"Have you ever even been to an opera, Guinivere?"

"No! But they'd come in handy…" Guinivere sighs. "They're about to start the duels. See, they're all divided up, and it's in brackets...the top two will fight at the end. Of course, both of the top two are pretty much guaranteed to get in anyway, so it's mostly for show…"

"Aren't they concerned about people getting hurt?"

"It's just with wooden sticks, not real lances. Either knock your opponent off their wyvern or deal a blow that would normally be fatal or incapacitating. There's a lot of referees for this one…"

"Look." Zephiel nudges Guinivere's arm and points. "I've found your rider."

Guinivere whips her head around. "Ah! There she is!" Shaking hands with her about-to-be-opponent, down in the corner...

The first round of fights begins, but Guinivere only watches that one pair. The crimson rider moves in a blur, immediately slamming the butt of her pole into the other rider's chest so that he falls backwards over his wyvern's tail. The whole thing is over in seconds.

"Wow!" Guinivere's jaw drops. "Did you see - "

"I saw, I saw."

Guinivere watches the woman's progress between duels. She's quick, and wily. Not the strongest rider there, but making up for it with sheer wit - grabbing an opponent's lance to throw them off-balance, ducking under careless strikes and taking the chance to counter, or using her superior speed to simply move before her opponent can. She and her wyvern move as one unit, like the scaly green wings are her own, the line blurring between them until Guinivere only sees one graceful, red-winged creature. Before long, she's made it to the quarter-finals - and then the semi-finals - and then -

"She's in the final!" Guinivere clasps her hands together. "Oh, I hope she wins!"

"I thought you said it was just for show."

"Well, it is, but it almost guarantees you a great position if you win! Plus, it would just be so cool!"

The two remaining riders shake hands. The other rider is young, like most of the new recruits, but he's tall and heavily-built, and Guinivere can see the bulk of his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. He is wearing traditionally blue armor, and seems to radiate power. Guinivere bites her nails.

The referee gestures, and both riders mount their wyverns and take up stances. The other rider twirls his pole over his head, but the crimson rider just sits firm. Guinivere is too far to see, but she fancies she can see the crimson rider's eyes scanning her opponent, finding holes and weaknesses.

At least, she hopes.

The referee gives a signal, and both wyverns charge towards each other at ramming speeds - but the crimson rider swerves sideways at the last moment, flying around and catching her opponent a blow across the back. It doesn't seem to budge him, though, and the crimson rider quickly retreats as he counters.

"He's too strong," Zephiel mutters. "She'll need to deal a lot of blows if she wants to unseat him."

Guinivere shifts nervously in her seat, making the wooden bench creak, as the two wyverns circle each other, both riders looking for openings. They charge again, a shower of splinters cascading from where their poles crash together, but nobody lands a hit.

The blue rider goes on the offensive after that, charging full-tilt at his opponent. The crimson rider parries the blow, but leaves her left side open, and is smacked hard in the arm - she teeters dangerously, but remains seated.

"Oh no…" Guinivere moans.

"It isn't over yet," says Zephiel reassuringly.

The crimson rider is still busy trying to defend herself, not getting a chance to counter under a fierce barrage. Guinivere can't imagine she'll win - but she hopes, nonetheless.

And then - the blue rider yells as he aims a solid blow at her chest, and the crimson rider's pole comes up in a counter, and hits his hand. His fingers fly open, his weapon is launched through the air, and it lands in the arena's thick sand floor, point down, quivering.

The rider turns to retrieve his weapon, but it's too far for him to reach in time, and so it's the crimson rider's turn to take the offensive. She tugs the reins and her wyvern flies over him, and from that vantage point, hits his shoulder hard, making him wobble in the saddle, and then - flies away.

Guinivere grabs Zephiel's arm. "What? Why's she retreating?"

"Not retreating," says Zephiel. "Look!"

After flying several yards at full speed, the crimson rider turns in a graceful arc that sends a gust of wind through the arena, and then accelerates still further as she hurtles towards her target. Speed, her weight, and that of her wyvern are all behind the point of her wooden pole, and it slams hard into her opponent's stomach. He's flung backward by the sheer pressure, and lands, just as his weapon had, flat on his back in the sand.

The referee signals, and the crimson rider straightens in her saddle. She's panting so hard with the effort that Guinivere can see it from her seat, and her hair is tangled and windswept when she takes off her helmet again, but she looks absolutely beautiful. Guinivere blushes at the very thought, but it doesn't stop her from leaping up and cheering. Several of the other riders in the stands are cheering too.

"That was well done," says Zephiel approvingly. "One with such tactics is well suited for Bern's army."

"It was so cool!" Guinivere claps until her palms hurt. "Hey, we can go down and meet her now! Come on, come on!" She takes Zephiel's hand and half-drags him out of the stands and down into the arena.

The arena is packed once again - both those successful, those not, and those whose candidacy is still up in the air are walking around and mingling, speaking with the referees and trainers. Guinivere scans the crowd, looking for red, wiggling between wyverns and armor. She finally sees it, a light on the horizon - a red-clad figure walking away from her, leading her wyvern behind her by the reins.

"Wait!" Guinivere runs after her. "Wait - Melady!"

The woman turns around, and she _is_ Melady, of course much taller and older, but Guinivere is certain it's her - the hair, the vivid red eyes. She waves. "Melady! It _is_ you!"

"Oh - are you - Princess Guinivere!" Melady hastily bows her head. "It is an honor - "

"You don't have to bow! It's good to see you again," says Guinivere, coming to a stop in front of Melady. "Do you...remember me?"

"Yes, of course," says Melady, straightening. "I have...often thought of that day."

Zephiel appears behind Guinivere. "Don't run off like that, Guinivere!"

"Sorry. Brother, this is Melady," says Guinivere. "Melady, my brother, Zephiel."

Melady bows again. "I am humbled to be in your presence, Prince Zephiel."

"Oh, no need for any of that. I think my sister is your greatest fan," says Zephiel, indicating Guinivere, hovering next to him. "She's suddenly become shy, though."

"Ah?" Melady colors slightly. "Well, I, er…"

 _"Zephiel,"_ Guinivere groans. "But that really was some amazing flying, Melady! You beat all those guys!"

"I trained hard for this day," says Melady. "I'm happy that all my hard work paid off."

"It did! Now you're a real wyvern rider!" Guinivere clasps her hands together. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, Princess…"

"Just Guinivere."

"Guinivere, then. Thank you."

"I wanted to ask...why are you wearing red armor?"

"Oh," says Melady, looking down at her armor. "If we are speaking strictly, there is no official code for the color of wyvern rider armor, although blue is traditional - to match the skies, you see. But there's a legend about a female wyvern knight, called the Crimson Dragoon...well, it's an old story, and nobody's certain it's true, but some female wyvern riders like to wear red armor to emulate her. Plus, I, er...rather like red."

"I do too!"

"You said it was your favorite." Melady smiles, looking up and into Guinivere's eyes. "I...thought of that, when I selected this armor."

"Oh." Guinivere's cheeks are probably red too now.

A long-haired, sallow-faced young man walks up to them, clapping Melady on the shoulder. "Well done. I knew you had it in you."

"Thank you, Galle," says Melady. "I don't know if I could have done it without your help."

"You're selling yourself short. All I did was give a few pointers. Oh, Princess Guinivere, Prince Zephiel." Galle bows. "Thank you for attending."

"This is Sir Galle," says Melady. "We were in basic training together, but he's a few years older than me, and already in the Bern army."

"It's nice to meet you," says Guinivere. "Wasn't she the coolest?"

Galle nods, still looking very serious. "Indeed. I apologize, Melady, but I have work to do, and I can't stay."

"Oh, that's fine," says Melady. "I appreciate you coming, regardless."

"By your leave, Prince, Princess. Melady, congratulations once again." Galle nods to them both and disappears into the crowd.

Melady shrugs. "He's not very excitable, but he's kind once you get to know him."

"Sure," says Guinivere. "Oh, I'm so excited! I was looking forward to seeing you again. I knew that you could do it!"

"Thank you," says Melady, ducking her head. "It was difficult, but…"

"Ah, Guinivere?" Desmond walks up to them, the Dragon Generals trailing in his wake. "What are you doing down here?"

"I wanted to congratulate Melady, Father," says Guinivere. "Wasn't she amazing?"

"She was. I intended to speak with her myself. But it is to be expected, isn't it?" Desmond turns to Melady. "Your father was a talented knight, after all. His retirement was a loss to Bern, but I am glad to see that his daughter is carrying on his legacy so well."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Melady bows.

"Father," says Guinivere, tugging on Desmond's arm, "Do you think Melady could be assigned to my personal guard?"

Desmond's eyebrows go up. "She's a new recruit, Guinivere. That seems a bit fast…"

"But I'd like for her to be, Father. I don't have any friends my age, and I'd like to spend more time with Melady. Please?"

"Hm...it's difficult to say no to you, Guinivere." Desmond strokes his beard. "I'll consider it. How is that?"

"It'll do," says Guinivere. "Thank you! Melady, isn't that wonderful?"

"It is." Melady looks rather stunned. "I appreciate you showing faith in me, Your Majesty."

"Guard my daughter well, should the opportunity arise, and it is you I will be grateful to," says Desmond.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Melady bows again.

Guinivere takes Melady's arm. "Can I meet your wyvern? I'm so excited!"

"Oh, of course," says Melady. "This is Trifinne. She's very gentle, and skilled with children to boot."

"I'm not sure…" says Desmond nervously. "Guinivere, be very careful."

"I've petted wyverns before, Father!" Guinivere holds out a hand, and Trifinne eyes it warily for a moment before leaning forward and rubbing her head gently against it. Guinivere strokes the scales. "Aw, she's so friendly!"

"Yes," says Melady proudly. "We've been partners since she was born. She was always good with my younger brother, as well."

"I suppose it's all right," says Desmond. "But don't put your fingers near her mouth, Guinivere."

"Of course not, Father! I know better than that!"

"Don't worry, Father," says Zephiel. "I'll keep an eye on things."

Desmond seems not to hear him. "I have to go speak with the other new recruits. I will see you later, Guinivere." He heads off into the crowd.

"Once you get a chance...will you take me riding?" Guinivere asks Melady lowly, once Desmond is out of earshot.

"When I can," says Melady. "I did promise, didn't I?"

"Of course!" Guinivere beams. "I can't wait! I know you'll be busy, but I hope we'll get to spend lots of time together."

"I do, too...Guinivere."

Melady's smile is even prettier than her hair.

***

Guinivere's practically trembling with excitement as she crosses the castle grounds with Melady. The morning air is sticky and breezy, and only a few clouds trace the big blue sky. "I can't believe it! I'm finally going to get to ride a wyvern!"

"Won't His Majesty be angry?" Melady looks anxiously around the grounds, absently running a hand along Trifinne's neck. "He seems very protective…"

"Don't worry about him!" says Guinivere cheerfully, smoothing down her riding breeches. "I never get in trouble, and Father won't punish people if I tell him not to." Except when it comes to Zephiel, but Melady doesn't need to know that.

"Okay…" Melady gives a final pat to Trifinne's head. "Then, climb up in the saddle. I'll help…"

Guinivere places a foot in a stirrup, and with a few little shoves from Melady, makes it up. "Wow, it's so high up!"

"Yep," says Melady. "I'm going to ride behind you. That way, I can hold you on."

"Got it!" Guinivere strokes Trifinne's neck. "Thanks for giving me a ride, girl."

Trifinne makes a rumbling noise that Guinivere thinks is a happy one.

There's rustling and clinking noises as Melady joins Guinivere in the saddle. "Um...I'm going to put my arms around you to reach the reins. That okay?"

"Yes, yes!" Guinivere tries not to let her impatience show. Melady reaches carefully around her and takes the reins, her arms shaking a little bit.

"Ready?"

"Born ready," says Guinivere, vibrating with sheer anticipation. Also, Melady's arms around her feel nice and warm and strong, which is just a bonus.

They take off. Guinivere gasps at the sudden stomach-dropping feeling of weightlessness as they rise into the sky, the air churning around them and the stony ground below slipping away into a plain gray square.

"Don't look down," Melady advises. "You doing okay?"

"Yes…" Guinivere swallows, looking up at the clouds overhead. "It's weird. But I think I like it."

"I'm glad. Do you want to go higher?"

"Even higher than this?"

"We often have to fly higher so we can get over mountains and things. But if you'd rather not…"

"No, no. I'd love to see!"

They continue rising at a gradual pace. Melady's arms are sure and steady, and even if Guinivere's a little bit afraid, something about Melady's reassuring presence at her back keeps that fear away.

Trifinne's wings might as well be Melady's wings, and Guinivere could never doubt anything that belongs to Melady.

"Where do you want to go?" Melady asks.

"Go? I...hadn't thought that far ahead," Guinivere admits.

"You said you'd been waiting for this for years!"

"We-ell, that doesn't mean I was making a plan, exactly…"

Melady's voice is slightly teasing. "So what did you want, then?"

"Mostly, I just wanted to see you again, and fly with you, and the rest wasn't important." Guinivere settles back in the saddle against Melady's chest.

"O-oh? Really?"

"Really." Guinivere kind of wishes she could see Melady's face right now, but turning around in the saddle as a novice wyvern rider doesn't sound like a stellar idea.

"Well…" Melady coughs. "Why don't we just go around the castle?"

"Sounds fun!"

They set off at a slow but steady pace, Trifinne's great wings flapping on either side of them. The air is crisp and cool on Guinivere's face, the breeze making strands of her braided hair fly free and float around her face, and she understands why Melady had advised her to wear a heavy cloak.

Guinivere swings her legs idly as they circle the castle ramparts and the sweeping cliffs surrounding it. "Everything looks so different from up here. I've been in the castle every day of my life, and I've never seen it this way before."

"Every day? You mean you've never spent a full day outside of the castle?"

"I hardly ever get to leave the grounds." Guinivere peers down at Bern Keep. She thinks she can pick out the garden, a fleck of green among stone buildings. "Father says it's too dangerous."

"Hm…" Melady eases Trifinne into a soft, lazy turn, and they round the castle. "I mean, there's dangerous things out there, but you have guards. Like me."

"Of course! I'm not scared of anything if you're around. I don't know why Father fusses so." Guinivere pets Trifinne's neck. "But it's okay. I'm happy to have you here. It'll be nice to have a real friend for the first time. There's my big brother, but he doesn't count."

"I'm happy to be your friend if you want me, Guinivere."

"I want you! For sure!" Guinivere smiles, even if Melady can't see her. "You're nice, and brave, and strong…"

"Th-thank you."

"And you're really good at flying, Melady. It's like you don't have to tell Trifinne anything at all! She just knows!"

"A good wyvern rider can communicate with their mount without using words," says Melady. "That's what Father says."

"Your father...you said your whole family's wyvern riders?"

"Yes...my father was a wyvern knight of Bern before he retired, as you know. So was his father before him. And then there's me, and my little brother, Zeiss."

"Oh, you have a little brother?"

"Yes. He wants to join the Bern Army as a wyvern rider too, but he's too young. Four years younger than me."

"Oh, I hope he does well!"

"I do, too. He shows strong potential, and Galle has offered to take him under his wing. Er, metaphorically speaking. Not literally."

Guinivere giggles.

"That tower's so high," Melady muses as they draw close to an imposing stone structure. "It must be the tallest one in the castle."

"Oh…" Guinivere swallows. "Um, I don't like that one, much. Can we avoid it?"

"Oh, sure." Melady turns the reins. Guinivere breathes a little better when it's a good distance away. "You still doing okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Let's keep going."

"Certainly." The clouds drift over their heads, lazy and amicable. Guinivere feels like she could reach out and touch them, even though they're still far away.

"I can't believe I've really managed to join the army," says Melady, almost to herself. "It feels like a dream…"

"Nope, not a dream."

"Sometimes I wondered if that day in the palace had been a dream, too," says Melady. "It was...so special to me. Even if it was brief. Is that...foolish?"

"It also thought it was special, too. So maybe we're both fools."

"It's strange." Melady's tone is still low, and if anyone else was in the sky with them, they wouldn't be able to hear it. "I feel...drawn to you. You seem like...a person I would be proud to serve, and prouder still to have as a friend."

"Me too," says Guinivere, just as quietly. "Let's always be friends, okay?"

"I'd like that," says Melady, and one of her hands lifts off the reins and rests atop Guinivere's own. "I'd like that very much."

And with that promise among the clouds, it all begins. Or, perhaps, it began long ago.


	2. roses

The next two years pass by at a gentle, gradual pace, but when Guinivere looks back on them, they seem to have gone by in a wink. Happy days, beautiful days, ephemeral days.

Melady is always at her side, and they grow closer and closer still. Guinivere has her studies, and Melady has duties, but they always find time together, in the castle or the air.

Sometimes they go to the wyvern stables together, and meet with Melady's friend Galle, and Guinivere learns the parts of a wyvern, how to command and guide them. With Melady seated behind her, Guinivere learns to steer Trifinne, but she suspects that it's only Melady's presence and Trifinne's gentle nature and careful training that causes the wyvern to follow her orders. Still, it's great fun, and Galle says he'd love to have her as a soldier if she just keeps at it. He's probably just being nice, but still.

Most of all, they meet in the garden, under the rosebush, which has grown higher towards the sky, tall enough that Guinivere still can't reach the top. In the leaves and blooms there, they share secrets, and smiles, and sometimes their hands brush together and it always sends a thrilling spark through Guinivere's heart that she doesn't quite understand. She learns about Melady's family, the father she speaks of with pride and the little brother she speaks of with more pride still. Guinivere teaches Melady how to weave roses into wreaths, garlands that twine through her hair, and they return to the castle for dinner covered in bits of foliage and with thorn-pricks on their fingertips.

And then there's Zephiel. Rumors are swirling about Father wanting to remove him from the line of succession and name Guinivere the next queen instead, rumors that even Zephiel himself has been told that Guinivere will be Bern's next leader - but Guinivere's ears are guarded from such things thanks to the careful actions of her family, and she hears none of it until far too late. Zephiel seems to grow more somber and less playful every year, always gazing out windows and tensing at sudden noises. But as preoccupied and sad as Zephiel sounds sometimes, he still manages to visit Guinivere a few times a month. Even living in the same castle, life seems to keep them apart. But Guinivere is nothing if not persistent, and they still visit, and they pick flowers and play chess together, and that is all that matters to her.

"You look sad today, Zephiel," says Guinivere.

"Ah?" Zephiel looks up from the chessboard. "No, no. Just busy."

"Really?"

"Really." Zephiel slides a rook across the checkered tiles. "Your move."

"Hm…" Guinivere taps a finger against her chin. "You know, one day I'll beat you."

"I'm certain you will."

Guinivere carefully puts a hand on her queen and glances up surreptitiously at Zephiel's face. He looks as cool and impassive as he ever does during these games. It's impossible to find a tell.

There's a knock at the parlor door (a knock for the future, a horrible knock, a dreadful one.)

"Enter," says Zephiel.

"The king requests your presence, Prince Zephiel," says a page (who will leave his post in shame two weeks later,) stepping inside. "At once, please."

"Then at once I shall go." Zephiel gets to his feet. "I will speak with you later, Guinivere." He sweeps from the room (she should have made him stay.)

No peace lasts forever, but Guinivere was naive enough to think this one could.

***

"You wished to see me, Father?" Guinivere asks, stepping into the throne room with Melady trailing behind her. Desmond is seated on the throne, head propped on one hand, his guards standing to attention on either side. He's smiling.

"Oh, Guinivere. I have sad news." Desmond sits up straighter, but his smile doesn't falter. "I thought it best to tell you in person."

"What is it?"

"It's your brother, I'm afraid," says Desmond. "He's been victim to an assassination attempt."

Guinivere's world stops. Melady's gasp sounds miles away. "What?"

"He's on the verge of death, even now." Desmond shakes his head. "Poison in his wine cup - a terrible, terrible thing."

Guinivere can taste her heartbeat. She thinks, faintly, of Desmond walking into the parlor during a chess game, some years before. The smile he wore then is a mirror to the one on his face now. "He's...he's sick?"

"Dreadfully so. I'm afraid he's unlikely to survive the week."

Zephiel, just last night, leaving the parlor, wooden chess pieces still scattered across the board. Zephiel, walking away from her, going somewhere she cannot.

Guinivere's hands shake, and it feels she's flying in the sky somewhere, looking down at her body from outside of it. How is she still breathing? How can the world still turn, the wind still blow, the grass still be green, if Zephiel is dying? "May I...see him?"

"If it eases your mind, dear heart. But there's nothing anyone can do for him now. I'm afraid there's no antidote."

"I still want to see him." She can't rest until she sees him. She has to know for certain...

"How suspicious of you, Guinivere." Desmond stands up. "Come along, then. I'll show you."

"It's not that I don't believe you…" says Guinivere hastily. "But I…"

"You are a gentle child. I understand." Desmond gestures, and Guinivere and Melady follow him out of the throne room. They walk to Zephiel's bedroom, and Desmond opens the door.

General Murdock is standing hunched over Zephiel's bed, starting to attention when he hears them and turning around to salute. "Your Majesty! Your Highness!"

"No changes, I presume?" says Desmond, sweeping towards the bed.

"I'm afraid not." Murdock's eyes fall. His already-shadowed face looks still darker, his eyes hollow. "We're doing our best…"

"General Murdock, I understand you feel responsible for this tragedy," says Desmond smoothly. "But you needn't stay here. The healers will care for him."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I would rather remain by the prince's side." Murdock bows.

"Hm. Please yourself, I suppose." Desmond steps back. "There he is, Guinivere. Or what is left of him."

Guinivere takes tentative footsteps towards the bed. She wonders why she can't seem to feel anything. Murdock steps quietly aside, letting her pass, and Melady stands beside him, both keeping a watchful eye.

Zephiel looks dreadful. Sickly pale, the same color as the sheets beneath him, his skin flat and thin as an eggshell. His eyes are closed, but he's not asleep, not really - he's panting heavily, body heaving with the effort, his head tossed to one side. Guinivere shakes slightly as she kneels down next to the high bed, their faces level. "Zephiel? Brother?"

She didn't really expect an answer, but her heart still twists when she doesn't get one.

"I have other duties that need attending to," says Desmond's voice, as if from a long way away. "Melady, I expect you to keep an eye on Guinivere."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Melady nods.

The door opens and shuts again as Desmond leaves. Guinivere fumbles in the sheets for Zephiel's clammy hand and clasps it in both of hers. "Brother, it's me."

A low groan escapes Zephiel's throat.

"Can...can he hear me, Murdock?"

"I do not know, Princess." Murdock's voice is heavy. He wipes Zephiel's sweat-soaked forehead with a cloth. "He has been like this in the hours since the poison was taken...I found him collapsed here."

"Who would...why would such a thing happen?" Guinivere presses her forehead to Zephiel's knuckles, trying to force life back into them. "Were there no guards?"

"Prince Zephiel has often been targeted by assassins. He has survived many such attempts over the years, but this is the first that he has not successfully evaded."

"I...I didn't know…"

"Only he and his father were in the chamber he drank in. It is a mystery, Princess."

Guinivere closes her eyes. Quiet fills the chamber, and for several minute the only sounds are Zephiel's tortured, struggling breaths.

"Princess Guinivere?"

Guinivere opens her eyes again. "Yes, Murdock?"

"Do you happen to recall the death of Queen Hellene, some years ago?"

"I do not understand."

"Perhaps it was a silly question. Pray, do not mind me."

Zephiel coughs, his whole body bending with the force of it, the bed shaking, and Guinivere reaches for him, but Murdock rests a heavy hand on her shoulder and gently pushes her back before reaching to dab at Zephiel's lips with a napkin.

The fabric comes away bright red.

"I apologize, Princess," says Murdock. "But I think it might be best if you left."

"I understand." Guinivere gets slowly to her feet. "Please...please, notify me if his condition changes."

"Yes, Princess."

Guinivere walks towards the door. She can't seem to see, and nearly walks right into it, but Melady places an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her out into the hall. They stand there together, Guinivere staring blankly at nothing.

"Guinivere."

"Is he really going to die, Melady?"

"I do not know."

"Who would kill him?"

"I do not know that, either."

Zephiel dies ten days later.

Just like Hellene's, his funeral is held the very next morning, this time in the palace banquet hall, as it's raining too badly to go out to the graveyard. Guinivere's tired of wearing black.

She and her father walk to the hall together, Melady lingering a few paces behind.

"I cannot believe that he is gone," says Guinivere. "He always seemed so strong…"

"It is a tragedy," says Desmond. "But Guinivere, you know what this means for you, do you not? You will be the next queen of Bern."

"I…" Guinivere swallows. "I cannot even begin to think about that now."

"Of course, of course. You are grieving. But when the dust is settled, so to speak, we will have to get to work. You need to be trained up properly, of course, and there must be a formal ceremony to declare you as my heiress." Desmond sounds as if he is talking about the weather. "Ah, here we are. A lovely arrangement. The servants have outdone themselves."

Indeed, the hall is draped with black, filled with similarly somber-clothed people. Around the coffin is a massive floral display - as Guinivere and her father walk up the aisle towards it, she catches the sight and scent of white lilies.

_The Etruria castle had such beautiful white lilies…_

_She flung herself off the tallest tower in despair. What a tragedy..._

_...Princess, do you happen to recall the death of Queen Hellene?_

The thoughts are all in her mind, but she cannot put them together. She actively resists putting them together, and ten years later, she will call herself a fool for it. But then again, she is only fourteen, and her brother is dead, and she cannot think of anything else.

"Many attendees," Desmond mutters. "And at such short notice, too. Was he really so popular?"

Murdock is standing next to the coffin. He looks like a walking ghost, but he salutes stiffly as Guinivere and Desmond approach.

"Ah, he looks so peaceful in death," says Desmond, drawing near to the coffin, lifting his voice so that the mourners can hear. "A shame that he was taken from us all so soon. A terrible, terrible shame. And a wicked act, that assassination."

Guinivere peers into the coffin. He looks white, and still, clad in his dress armor, and she can't look for more than a second before turning away. Melady reaches for her as she trembles, supporting her with an arm around her waist.

Dead. He's dead. Just like her mother, just like Hellene, and why does everyone who cares about her die? Guinivere clings onto Melady, wishes she could cry, or scream, or do anything at all, but the only thing she can do is try and keep standing upright.

"The monster who did this to my beloved son will be punished," Desmond says. He bends over the coffin, his lips brush Zephiel's pale forehead -

\- and he stops, and stiffens, and staggers.

"Yes, Father," says the corpse of Zephiel, sitting up in the coffin. "And so he has."

Desmond lands on his back. There is a single wound, right over his heart. A red blossom, spreading across the dark of his funeral doublet. His face is twisted in shock. He sucks in one deep, rattling breath, and does not move again.

In Zephiel's extended hand is a bloodied dagger.

Dead, terrified silence fills the hall. Nobody screams. Nobody even moves.

Zephiel climbs out of the coffin. He wavers slightly, and Murdock hurries forward and takes his arm. A tiny part of Guinivere, the only part that isn't entirely blank and white from shock, whispers that Murdock is the only person in the room who doesn't look surprised.

Melady releases Guinivere and then pushes in front of her, standing between Guinivere and the coffin, between her and Zephiel. Her lance was not brought to the funeral, but she draws the sword from her belt and holds it at the ready. Part of Guinivere feels she should protest that, but most of her can't feel anything at all.

"As all of you have surmised, my death was a ruse." Zephiel's eyes sweep the room. They are cold, hard, and empty. "My assassination, however, was not. The culprit was none other than the man who dared to call himself my father." Zephiel draws back a foot and kicks the body of Desmond hard in the ribs. "And so this decades-long charade at last draws to an end. I am no longer my father's fool. I am the new king of Bern."

The only sound Guinivere can hear is Melady breathing in front of her. Melady, Melady. She tries to focus on her, a drop of red in all the white. She can't focus on anything else.

Zephiel's eyes settle there too, on where Melady stands as a shield between the siblings. "Dame Melady, why do you stand at attention? I would never harm my sister. She was nothing more than Father's unwitting tool, and played no part in this plan." He walks towards them, and Melady doesn't waver, although Guinivere can see a bead of sweat drip down the back of her neck.

Zephiel lifts a hand, and Melady tenses, but he only claps it onto her shoulder. Bile rises in Guinivere's throat _\- don't touch her, how dare you touch her, stay away -_

_\- but why would she think such a thing of Zephiel? -_

_\- because their father's body is stiffening on the floor behind him -_

_\- but there must be a reason, Zephiel would never do such a thing without a reason -_

_\- perhaps Father really did -_

_\- Father wouldn't -_

_\- Zephiel wouldn't -_

Zephiel's voice breaks Guinivere from her thoughts. "You have my commendations for your devotion to your duty, though. It is much like the dedication General Murdock showed." He nods towards his quiet bodyguard. "He risked his own life to learn the truth, and to obtain an antidote without my father's knowledge, allowing my survival to this day. In the circumstances, I understand your reluctance to trust me, Melady. Regardless, I hope you continue to guard my dear sister well."

Guinivere has never been frightened of her brother before, but in this moment, she is more terrified than she has ever been in her life. This pale, gaunt man, this twisted, shadowed face - whoever he is, he doesn't look like her brother.

In fact, he looks like their father.

***

There is no funeral for King Desmond. He is buried quietly, alongside Guinivere's mother. Guinivere suspects Zephiel pushed against this, but even he could only do so much in the face of tradition, and a king born of Bern could not possibly be laid to rest anywhere but in the royal graveyard. The lack of funeral sends ripples of shock through the court, but within weeks, Desmond's name is no longer spoken at all within the halls of Bern Keep. A new order has risen.

Several of Bern's highest-ranking authorities and generals are demoted and removed from their posts, and in a few cases, executed. They played a role in the assassination, Zephiel said. Bern needed to start fresh. This would be a new era, free of Desmond's corruption. (Instead, there would be new corruption.) Bern would be stronger (It certainly would.)

On the day of Zephiel's coronation, two weeks after his funeral, he marches through the throne room with a set, determined face, looking more a military commander than a noble. He kneels before the head bishop, the ceremonial crown is placed on his brow, the legendary Eckesachs in his hand, and Zephiel is king.

Guinivere watches it all, feeling lost and detached. She feels she will float away, higher than even a wyvern could reach. Only Melady's hand around hers keeps her anchored to the ground.

Zephiel is king. He will be a grand king. Guinivere should be happy. And yet, that man seated in the throne looks entirely unfamiliar to her.

***

She has nightmares, nightmares where Desmond kills Zephiel and then Zephiel kills Desmond and their bodies fall to the floor in a puddle of blood at her feet, and her mother and Hellene are dead too, their bodies broken and eyes empty, and the blood fills up everything, every corner of her vision, it chokes her, she drowns in it, and as she screams for help that her family cannot give her father's voice whispers, _now you will be queen -_

"Guinivere?"

Guinivere pants, staring up at the underside of her bed's canopy. Her nightdress is stuck to her body with sweat.

"Are you all right?"

"...Melady," says Guinivere, sense returning to her. She sits up. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"It's past morning." Melady nods to the window by the bed. Indeed, sunlight is streaming through.

"Ah," says Guinivere. "I seem to have overslept."

Melady remains quiet.

"Is there something you needed of me?" Guinivere asks, trying to keep her voice casual.

"Are you well, Guinivere?"

"Well enough."

"Are you certain of this?"

Guinivere looks over at Melady. Her face is calm and level, as usual, but her tone is gentle, like she's speaking to a frightened animal or child. Guinivere swallows through a dry throat. "Could you...bring me some water, please?"

"Of course." Melady fills a mug from a pitcher on the desk and passes it to Guinivere, then waits while she drinks. Melady has endless patience, Guinivere thinks. There is no way to shake her.

Guinivere lowers the mug, letting out a sigh that ripples the surface of the water. "Do you ask after my condition as my friend, or as the captain of my guard, Melady?"

"Both."

"I supposed as such."

"You have been through much for one so young, Princess Guinivere," says Melady, in that same gentle tone. "I do not blame you for any scars that might linger. It is only understandable."

Guinivere sets the mug down on the bedside table. "And you are quite young to be a princess's personal guard, Dame Melady."

"As I understand it, the princess herself vouched for me. Though there are many dissenters."

"Hm. Perhaps the princess should do more vouching."

"You need not continue to maintain a mask for me."

"I know that. I apologize for stalling. I am...collecting my thoughts." Guinivere sighs, turning her head to look out through her window, down into the palace garden, facing the rose bushes. "It has been...five hundred and twenty-seven days since my father died."

Melady does not ask how Guinivere remembers that number. She doesn't have to.

"I do miss him. But he is not the only one I mourn."

"Your brother?"

"Yes." Guinivere tosses off the covers and gets to her feet, walking over to stand by the window, willing the sun to heal where her bones still feel like rubber. "It feels like my entire family has been lost. Zephiel is still walking and talking, but...I have not seen him smile once since that day."

Melady's brow knots. "I believe I saw him smile at dinner last night, Princess."

"Oh, sometimes the corners of his mouth turn up at the ends. But he never smiles."

" _Ah_...I see."

Guinivere presses a palm to the window, watching the palace gardeners work. "Melady?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think...I could have stopped it?" Guinivere hates how tiny, how childish, her own voice sounds. She has striven so hard to become mature since that day. "Do you think I could have changed Father's mind? That I could have made him...love Zephiel the way he loved me?"

Soft footsteps pad behind her as Melady steps closer. "I don't think so, Princess."

"Are you certain of this?"

"I was not privy to all the goings-on within the royal family. But from the day I was hired as a soldier...I saw you and your brother together. You loved him very deeply. I do not believe you could have done any more than that."

"Still…" Guinivere's eyes start to sting.

"May I hug you?"

"Please do," Guinivere's voice breaks. "Please."

Melady's arms wrap around Guinivere from behind, and she leans back into them. Melady isn't wearing her armor, just a tunic, and Guinivere can feel her heartbeat against her own back, and it brings a steadiness that Guinivere can't seem to find anywhere else.

"Melady?"

"What is it?"

"Am...am I…" Guinivere swallows.

"You are a good person, Guinivere. A good daughter, and a good sister, and a good friend. One of the kindest I've ever met."

"I…" Guinivere blinks against the tears.

"I'll stay at your side. No matter what."

"Thank you."

"It is my pleasure."

They stay that way for a long moment, looking out at the roses. Guinivere wonders when roses began to make her think of Melady, and not her mother. She can't quite remember.

***

Guinivere hasn't cleaned out the desk drawers in her bedroom for a long time. It's a dreadful mess, an array of pressed flowers, smooth rocks, and other childhood treasures that all get deposited carefully in a waste bucket.

Tasks keep her mind busy. Tasks like staff lessons, and magic lessons, and classes on affairs of state and military and tactics...all things Zephiel has said she has no need for, but allowed for the sake of keeping her entertained. They'd argued about it today. Zephiel didn't want her learning war tactics. She's just a princess, he'd said. He's the king. He'll handle those things. She should focus on ladylike pursuits and keep her hands clean.

She's a pretty porcelain doll, Guinivere thinks, tossing aside a clumsily-made yarn bracelet. Something to keep on a shelf and admire, but too delicate and fragile to play with or use for anything worthwhile. She's tired of it, but she's also scared. Defying Zephiel...doesn't end well for anyone, people say. Soldiers who disobey or disagree with his orders tend to quietly disappear...just like they had under Father.

What was the difference between them, in the end? Is it, Guinivere thinks, the foolish idea of a sixteen-year-old child to believe that Bern can be a better place? A place known for anything but its army?

Guinivere reaches into the back of a drawer, tugging on a stuck handkerchief and yanking it free, unfolding it in her hands. She's about to add it to the mess when she catches a glimpse of red, and her eyes widen.

It's not a handkerchief - it's a small sheet of thin white fabric, with a bouquet of flowers embroidered in its center. One half of a green stem looks clumsy among all the neat, elegant stitching. And at its peak is a single red rose. Red as Melady's hair. Red as... _blood, on her father's doublet, as the rage in his eyes, as shouting voices and a broken wreath..._

Guinivere's hands shake as she carefully returns the fabric to its place in the drawer and slides it shut. But the shaking won't stop, and her breathing comes quick and fast as she leaps to her feet, nearly upending the waste bucket, and hurries out of the bedroom.

Melady is standing guard outside the door, facing away from Guinivere. Guinivere tugs lightly on her hand, and the wyvern knight turns, and can tell at once by the look in Guinivere's eyes what she needs. They walk together, briskly, hands still joined, to the wyvern stables. Melady gets Trifinne's bridle and saddle on with careful, practiced hands, leads her out into the open air, and then soundlessly helps Guinivere climb up in front before joining her and cracking the reins.

They take off, and Guinivere gulps down the cool air, her lungs starting to remember their purpose and move evenly again.

"Better?" Melady asks gently.

"A little." Guinivere pauses. The sky above them is dark with night, but clear, not a cloud to be seen. There's a little wind, whipping stray strands of her hair free through the gloom. "I'm sorry for pulling you away like that."

"It's my job." Melady's arms tighten around Guinivere's torso, a slightly awkward hug from behind. "And even if it wasn't...I'm happy to do so."

"Thank you, Melady. For everything."

"Are you all right?"

Guinivere sighs. "I don't know if I ever will be."

"I'm here if you need me. Whenever you need me."

"You are, aren't you?" Guinivere shifts in the saddle, turning so she's facing Melady, her back nestled against Melady's arm. "You always have been."

Melady smiles. She's beautiful against the night sky, a shimmering drop in a sea of deep blue, almost glowing, casting her wyvern and the air in red. Melady's hair, her armor, her cheeks, her lips - they're all red, but not like blood. Like life.

 _She's_ life. She's love. She's everything.

"Guinivere?"

"Melady," Guinivere says, her breath coming quick again, but for a different reason this time, "May I kiss you?"

Melady's eyes widen, those beautiful, red lips parting. Guinivere waits a few seconds, and then Melady clears her throat. "You want to…"

"Yes. Very much so. May I?"

"I...yes. Yes, of course."

Guinivere carefully cups the line of Melady's jaw in her hands, and leans forward, watching Melady's eyes slide slowly shut before closing her own. Their lips meet, slow and soft and earth-shattering. Melady's hands release the reins and reach up to clasp Guinivere's shoulders, gentle and firm as their bearer.

Guinivere pulls back. "Was that all right?"

"More than all right," Melady says hoarsely. "I...Guinivere, I…"

"Shh." Guinivere leans forward and kisses her again.

She doesn't remember if she tells Melady she loves her that night, or the next, or any of the next. But it's said between them, dozens, thousands of times, and each time truer than the last, and that night in the sky will always be one of the greatest of her life.

***

"It's been years since I've attended one of these," says Guinivere as she takes her seat in the arena. "The last one I went to was yours, actually."

"I still can't believe you attended all those trials looking for me," says Melady.

"I was a wise child, wasn't I? I knew you were someone to keep an eye on." Guinivere winks. "And look where it's gotten us! I did well, didn't I."

Melady leans over and kisses Guinivere's temple. "I suppose. I wouldn't change a thing."

"Oh, a kiss? In public? How brazen, Dame Melady."

"Well, I'm off duty. I'm just here as a proud big sister, not first lieutenant of the Princess's guard." Melady strokes her thumb over Guinivere's hand. "So I can behave however I wish. Particularly as I understand the King turns a blind eye to this kind of thing."

"True, he doesn't care." Guinivere's eyes sparkle. "So...does that mean this is a date?"

"I suppose it is," says Melady. "A rather dull date, I'm afraid…"

"Oh, no. I love wyverns, and I'm excited to meet the baby brother I've heard so much about."

"Please don't tell him I've called him that."

"I would never. He's thirteen, right?"

"Yes, four years my junior."

"How cute," says Guinivere. "I can't wait."

"I hope he does well. He's been strong in all his classes. Galle's been helping train him too, as a favor."

"I haven't seen Galle in awhile. Is he well?"

"Climbing the ranks," says Melady. "But quite busy as a result. You seem to be doing well yourself lately, Guinivere."

"I have felt better the last several months," says Guinivere, squeezing Melady's hand. "Thanks to you."

"I'm glad. Ah - they've arrived."

Guinivere squints. "Do you see him?"

"Hm…" Melady's eyes dart over the recruits. She's used to spotting people from the air, and it's not long before her eyes brighten. "There - he's got my hair, see? Near the entrance."

Guinivere shades her eyes with a hand. "Aw, he's precious!"

"Don't tell him that. He hates being patronized. Looks like he's in the first racing group…" Melady leans forward. "He's not as fast as me, but he should do well."

"Nobody's as fast as you."

"I doubt that is the truth, but I appreciate it."

Zeiss's wyvern trials pass quickly. He comes in fourth in his race, ranks well in the javelin toss, and makes it to the semi-final duel before being unseated by a girl nearly twice his size.

"Well done," Melady mutters under her breath, watching him join the others in the stands to watch the last match. "He's done well enough that I'm certain he'll be allowed to join."

"He was good," says Guinivere.

"He'll beat himself up for not coming first, though. He's a perfectionist." Melady shakes her head. "Father instilled that in us."

The final match ends, with Zeiss's defeater emerging triumphant, and then Melady and Guinivere head down from the stands into the arena to greet Zeiss. He's speaking with Galle when they approach, the height difference between the two almost comical.

"Zeiss," Melady calls. "Well done."

"Thanks, but I should've done better," Zeiss grumbles.

"Melady said you would say that," says Guinivere.

Zeiss blinks. "Um...who are you?"

"Princess Guinivere," says Melady. "I've spoken to you of her. The king's younger sister."

Zeiss's eyes fly open, and Guinivere almost laughs at his resemblance to a younger Melady. "Uh - I mean - I'm sorry, Your Highness."

"No need to bow," says Guinivere. "It's nice to meet you, Sir Zeiss."

Zeiss looks nervously at Galle and then Melady, who both nod. "Um...well, nice to meet you, then, Princess Guinivere. I've, uh, heard a lot about you. And I'm not really Sir yet, so..."

"After that, you certainly will be," says Galle.

"Maybe not, though...I didn't win anything." Zeiss rubs the back of his head.

"You did better than I in the javelin toss," says Melady.

"Yeah, but...you won your race and the duels, and I only - "

Galle lets out a sigh, perhaps the most drastic show of emotion Guinivere has ever seen from him. "I just told you, Zeiss. The strength of others does not denote weakness in oneself."

"Yeah…" Zeiss kicks at the dirt. "But winning would've been nice."

Galle shakes his head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I'll prove myself, though," says Zeiss. "For sure. If they let me in."

"I told you, they will," says Galle. "But I've got to get going. I'll see all of you later." He waves to Melady and nods to Guinivere before heading off.

Zeiss fiddles with a gauntlet that's slightly too large for his young, lanky frame. "So...um…now what happens?"

"Now you wait here for King Zephiel and the generals to finish their decisions, and then they'll come down and let everyone know who's made it. Like you, because you certainly have." Melady ruffles Zeiss's hair. Zeiss scowls, but there's pride in his eyes as his sister praises him. Brother and sister, standing together, the younger only wanting to please the older...

"Guinivere? Are you all right?"

"Ah…" Guinivere snaps back to attention. "Fine. I'm...I'm just fine."

***

Under the rosebush's swaying branches is one of the few places in the castle Guinivere still feels safe. The others are on Trifinne's back, and in Melady's arms.

Melady arrives at the expected time, emerging out of the nighttime fog, wiggling through the leaves and leaning down to kiss Guinivere. "I'm back."

"I'm glad you're back." Guinivere leans against her. "How was the assembly?"

"Rather dull, but I'm here now." Melady slips an arm around Guinivere's shoulders. "I'd rather be here."

"I'd rather you be here, too." Guinivere's breath rustles the leaves of the bush. Here, it always feels like it's just the two of them. Not that anyone else visits the gardens anymore. "Is everything all right?"

"Well enough. They say Bern's military has become even stronger under King Zephiel. He has a knack for finding talent."

"He can't take all the credit! I found you first."

"I believe it is not solely due to my contributions, Guinivere."

"Nonsense. Captain Melady, leader of the princess's personal guard. Sometimes I hear the maids whispering about her, and how much they'd like to get...personal lessons."

Melady turns scarlet. Guinivere giggles.

Somewhere, a cricket chirps softly.

"A-anyway," says Melady. "Galle's in line to become the newest Dragon General once General Lybalt retires. It'll be some time, of course, but there's talks…"

"Really? Good for him!"

"When I asked if he wanted the position, he said the most worthy candidate would get the job and he would support the king's decision, of course." Melady rolls her eyes. "But I think he's excited. He seems a bit happier."

"I'll take your word for it." Guinivere sighs with satisfaction as she rests against Melady's chest.

"And how are you doing today, Guinivere?"

"Well enough. Continuing my lessons. You know how it is. It's a little silly, since we only spent a day apart, but...I missed you. Everything's so much brighter when you're around. So much more peaceful." Guinivere traces her fingers down Melady's leg. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And I you." Melady rests her head on Guinivere's, and they look up at the night sky together. The stars are twinkling faintly.

"Do you know," says Guinivere softly, still gently running her hand over Melady's leggings, "it's been nearly three years since I first kissed you."

"Has it? It feels like it's been no time at all, or perhaps eternity."

"Time is funny that way."

"That was a beautiful night."

"Much like tonight, wasn't it?"

"Is there something you want, Guinivere?"

Guinivere tilts her head up until her lips are an inch from Melady's ear. "You."

"I - "

Guinivere cuts her off with a kiss, a far more skillful one than their first, deftly parting Melady's lips with her own and diving in. Melady makes a soft noise, not quite a moan, and Guinivere drinks it down, lets it fill her with warmth, consume her, fill her.

Guinivere shifts, slipping her leg over Melady's and moving into her lap, stealing one more deep, greedy kiss before pulling back, looking at Melady's reddened lips and flushed cheeks.

"Beautiful," Guinivere whispers, their noses almost touching. "You're beautiful."

Melady only stares, lips still parted, hands resting idly on Guinivere's waist. Guinivere can see the universe in her eyes.

Guinivere presses kisses along Melady's jaw, down her neck, biting lightly at the soft skin there. Melady's hands curl into the skirts of Guinivere's dress, her head tilting back to give Guinivere better access. She seems to be forgetting how to breathe, only short gasps escaping her, making her throat move under Guinivere's ministrations. Guinivere's hand is still resting on Melady's leg, and then it begins to creep slowly upwards, trailing along Melady's inner thigh.

Melady breaks off with a gasp. "Guinivere - "

"Yes?"

"Do you…" Melady swallows under Guinivere's lips. "Are you certain...you wish to do this?"

"Yes," Guinivere answers, her voice low. "Do you?"

"O-of course. There is - nothing I want more. But - "

"But what?"

"Out here?"

"Nobody comes this way," Guinivere whispers. "And the night gives us plenty of cover. I don't mind if you don't."

"Then…" Melady's hand drifts up Guinivere's side. "Then I don't mind, either."

Melady's hands leave trails of fire along Guinivere's skin, rose petals blossoming in her touch, and it's all red, red, beautiful red.


	3. blood

War comes in like a lion, shortly before Guinivere's twenty-fifth birthday.

It's sudden, crashing down onto the continent like a white-hot wave. One day there was no war, and the next moment Bern forces were invading both Ilia and Sacae, and Zephiel directs it all from the throne room, wyvern messengers flying to and from the castle.

"I've been asked to inform you that all staff and tome lessons have been cancelled for the time being, Princess," says Guinivere's lady-in-waiting as she fills Guinivere's water jug. "The Church has our hands full with all the injured soldiers."

"That's fine. Thank you, Elen. Give the bishop my regards if you see her." Guinivere fiddles with her locket, watching wyverns swoop across the sky outside. "Have you been called back as well?"

"No, I shall remain here with you." Elen puts down the jug and sets about making the bed. "I enjoy working for you."

"Er, thank you." Guinivere watches the girl as she carefully sets about her work. She's several years younger than Guinivere, only in her late teens, but very dutiful and pious enough to rival even the head bishops. Guinivere had been a bit wary about having her own lady's maid, but Zephiel had insisted, and Elen is nice enough. A tad gullible, maybe, but Guinivere's hardly one to talk.

"A simultaneous strike, on both Ilia and Sacae," says Melady. "The king must have been planning this for some time."

Guinivere rests her face in her hands. "I don't understand. He never told me…"

"It sounds like only the higher-ups in the army knew." Melady walks over to stand beside Guinivere. "You can't blame yourself."

"I _am_ a higher-up. I'm the princess." Guinivere lowers her hands and looks up into Melady's eyes. "I never even suspected he was planning anything. I'm such an _idiot."_

"No, you're not - "

"Saying I'm an idiot is the kindest interpretation. Otherwise, I'm just self-absorbed and a coward."

"Guinivere!"

"You are no fool, Princess Guinivere," says Elen quietly. "I think you're just a very kind person, who wants to believe the best of people."

"What's the difference?"

"A world of difference," says Melady, and Elen nods.

"Either way...now there's a war. And from the sound of it...Ilia and Sacae won't last much longer." Guinivere leans back and stares up at the canopy of her bed, blinking back tears. "What have I done? No...what _haven't_ I done? What kind of a princess am I if I can't use that title to help anyone? Just like I couldn't help Zephiel or his mother..."

Melady takes Guinivere's hand, but both she and Elen seem to have run out of reassuring things to say. There isn't anything to say, Guinivere thinks, as she leans into Melady's shoulder and cries. Nothing will change the reality of what has happened, and the reality is that Guinivere has failed.

***

"I hate these meetings," Guinivere mutters, standing outside the door of Zephiel's war room. "They just gloat about all the people they're going to kill…"

Melady's hand on hers tightens. "If you want me to tell them you're ill, I can do so."

"Thank you, but I must face this. It's the least I can do." Guinivere sighs and stands up straighter. "Here I go."

Melady kisses Guinivere. "For luck."

Guinivere manages a smile, and then pushes open the doors and steps inside.

At the far end of the table, Zephiel's head is bowed, studying a map. Behind him stands the Dark Priestess, shrouded in her robes, still as a statue. Taking the high-ranking seats around Zephiel are the Dragon Generals, already assembled. General Brunnya sits with her hands folded neatly in her lap, back ramrod-straight, eyes trained unwaveringly on Zephiel. General Murdock sits at Zephiel's right hand, face unreadable and solemn as ever. General Narcian lounges back in his chair, two legs off the ground, studying his nails. He hears Guinivere enter, looks up, and smirks, eyes roaming the length of Guinivere's frame like a fox surveying a rabbit. Guinivere keeps her face steady. She _despises_ that man. Everyone said Galle should have been the third general, but Narcian had pulled strings to take the job.

"Princess Guinivere," says Murdock solemnly. "Good evening to you."

"Good evening, Murdock, everyone. Brother." Guinivere takes her seat at the close end of the table, the lowest-ranking one. Zephiel hadn't even wanted her at these meetings, but with enough begging and pleading, she'd finally managed the spot just a few weeks ago.

Zephiel lifts his head from the map he's studying. "As we're all assembled, let us begin. First off, Murdock, I trust the Fire Emblem is safe? All our plans will mean nothing if that sword is brought out."

"Yes, Your Majesty. I performed a check this morning."

"Good." Zephiel straightens in his seat. Behind him, the Dark Priestess continues her blank stare.

Guinivere both fears the girl and pities her.

"We've made great progress these last few months," says Zephiel. "Ilia and Sacae were the first stages of our plan, and now it is time we move forward. It is time to address the matter of the Lycia invasion." A murmur of excitement runs around the table. Guinivere swallows hard.

"The Lycia invasion will be more difficult than Ilia or Sacae," says Zephiel, running a finger over the map spread across the table. "Listen carefully, all of you. This first charge will be crucial. Lycia's marquesses are prone to squabbling among themselves, but Marquess Hector of Ostia is currently the head of the Lycian League's army. He keeps them in line, and the other lords are too afraid to defy him. But he is only one man, and his men only one army. I assume you all follow me."

"Lycia will not be able to mobilize properly if Hector is disposed of," says Brunnya.

"Precisely. We cut off the head...and the body is useless. We must find him, immediately, and crush him then and there, before he can mobilize the full power of the Lycian army."

"Shouldn't be too difficult, disposing of some puffed-up backwater noble," says Narcian, picking his teeth.

"I would not underestimate Ostia," says Zephiel. "Hence why I will be leading this charge myself."

Narcian's chair legs bang down onto the stone floor. "Your Majesty!"

"I shall brook no argument. Narcian and Brunnya will accompany me, while Murdock oversees things here in my absence, and keeps an eye on Ilia and Sacae. This strike must be swift, hard, and ruthless. Should we succeed...Lycia will be an easy target."

"Hmm...ruthless? I like it." Narcian peers at the map.

"We will begin our journey the morning after tomorrow. This world must be liberated," says Zephiel. "Liberated from the shackles humanity has placed upon it."

"As you say, Your Majesty," murmurs Brunnya. Murdock inclines his head in what could well have been a nod.

"But…" Guinivere looks around the table, at the serious assembled faces. "But isn't this...cruel? What have any of these nations done to - "

"Guinivere. I allow you to sit in on these councils as an act of goodwill. But you are trying my patience."

Guinivere lowers her head. "I...apologize."

"We move on Lycia in two days' time, then," says Zephiel, getting to his feet. "The advance squads have already started preparations. Soon...soon, a new world will begin. You are dismissed."

The soldiers and generals file out of the war room, and only Guinivere remains seated. Zephiel turns to the Dark Priestess, speaking quietly to her.

Guinivere stares at the map, at the little red pins dotting Ilia and Sacae and starting to creep into Lycia. _Liberation. A new world. War._ All fancy words for murder.

Had the ten-odd years of Zephiel's rule only been preparation for this travesty? She can't begin to fathom it. And there's nothing she can do to stop it.

Isn't there?

"Guinivere, are you still here?" Zephiel walks past her towards the door, the Dark Priestess silently following his footsteps. "You should go get some rest. It's late."

Glimmers of her old brother come through sometimes, and it's that touch of gentle concern in his tone that makes Guinivere waver, again and again. But not this time, not this time.

Guinivere curls her hands into fists at her sides. "Brother."

"Yes?"

"I know it sounds foolish, but…" Guinivere draws a breath. "Might we have a game of chess, before you leave for the front?"

Zephiel stops. It's been years since she managed to surprise him. "A game?"

"I just...you'll be away for so long, and it's dangerous, and…"

"...Very well. I suppose I can delay my duties for tonight." He nods to the Dark Priestess, who bows and slips away into the shadows, as she so often seems to. "Let us proceed to the parlor, then."

They walk the castle halls in silence. Melady follows several paces behind, and Guinivere can sense her questioning eyes. Later, she'll tell her later.

Guinivere and Zephiel reach the parlor, Melady remaining outside the door, and sit down at the old chessboard. It's covered in dust, which Guinivere wipes away with her sleeve as Zephiel takes out the creaky oak box of wooden pieces and begins to set them in alignment. "Which color, Guinivere?"

"Red, please."

"I suppose I didn't have to ask." A corner of Zephiel's mouth turns up, ever so slightly, as he sets the red pieces in front of Guinivere. "I'll take blue, then. Your move first, when you're ready."

Guinivere selects a pawn and nudges it forward. They take a few turns in quiet. Zephiel appears to be in a fairly good mood, Guinivere thinks. If she's going to accomplish anything here...it's worth a try. She has to try.

"Is something on your mind, Guinivere?"

Damn. So much for setting him at ease. Of course he knows. But she might as well forge ahead. Guinivere draws a deep breath. "Must this war happen?"

"A silly question, Guinivere. My whole rule has led up to this moment. Of course it must."

Guinivere's hand shakes on her knight. "Why, Brother? Can you...at least tell me why?"

Zephiel surveys her coolly, looking so much like their father Guinivere feels a sudden urge to gag. "You don't need to trouble yourself with such things, Guinivere."

"I'm twenty-five. I'm an adult. I'm not a child any longer. Please tell me. I'm the princess of Bern. Is it not my duty to know?"

"You have no such duties. I will handle the kingdom. You may live your life however you please - as long as you keep your nose out of my affairs."

"I cannot simply stand by and ignore a war, Brother. I am not so empty-headed as that."

"You can ignore it if I am ordering you to ignore it." Zephiel's face hardens. "I am the king, Guinivere. You forget your place."

"...I apologize." Guinivere takes a deep breath. "Brother? May I ask one thing more of you?"

"What is it?"

"I...I would like to accompany you to the Lycia war front."

"Don't be ridiculous, Guinivere. You are no soldier."

"Not onto the battlefield. I just...I just want to see. I want to see with my own eyes this world you intend to build."

Zephiel watches her. Guinivere holds her breath. It's only half a lie. She does want to see. But also, if there's anything she can do, anything at all, to slow or stop this war…

"Very well," says Zephiel at last. "Perhaps you will be convinced if you see it for yourself at last. But you will be staying far from the fighting, understood? And I will not have the time to entertain you. You will be left in the care of your bodyguards."

"I understand."

"Checkmate."

Guinivere looks down at the board. Hardly a surprise - she can't beat Zephiel even when she is paying attention to the game, and she certainly wasn't this time. "Thank you for humoring me, Brother."

"You might be rather flighty, but I do care about you, Guinivere."

Guinivere swallows hard against the lump in her throat. "I...I do too."

"We leave for the front the day after tomorrow. Prepare your things." Zephiel gets to his feet. "I have much to do. Goodnight, Guinivere."

"Goodnight." Guinivere puts away the chess pieces, and then leaves the room.

"Guinivere?" Melady's eyes are wide as Guinivere steps into the hall. "What happened in there? The king looked...almost pensive."

"I'm going to go to Lycia with him," says Guinivere. _I'm going to do something absolutely foolhardy and ridiculous._ "Will you accompany me?"

"To the _war front?"_ Melady stops in her tracks. "Guinivere! I can't let you - "

"I must. I want to see this war with my own eyes. I want to see this world my brother is supposedly building." Guinivere curls her shaking hands in the skirts of her gown. "I cannot stand idly by. At the very least...I can watch what Bern is doing to Elibe."

"I…" Melady swallows and starts walking again. "It will be terribly dangerous, even if you don't go on the battlefield proper. I will strive to protect you, but…"

"I have never once in my life been in danger," says Guinivere. "I am tired of living in bliss and ignorance while my people suffer. We depart the day after tomorrow."

"...Very well." Melady sighs. "It seems I cannot change your mind."

"Yes, you cannot," Guinivere agrees as they enter her bedroom. "Could you...leave me for the night? I simply want to be alone."

"All right." Melady kisses her. "Good night."

"Good night." Guinivere watches her disappear down the hall before shutting the door and sitting down at her desk, dropping her head into her hands.

She's going to the front. First step. Second step...what can she possibly do that will stop Zephiel? The army is loyal to the king, not the princess. Even her own handful of guards would balk at the idea of desertion. Bern breeds loyalty into the bone.

She could join up with Lycia. She has intelligence on Bern's plans, doesn't she? ...No, she doesn't. Zephiel leaves her out of any meetings that directly discuss tactics. To protect her, or because he doesn't trust her? She doesn't know.

Guinivere rolls the events of the day's meeting around in her mind. She can't stop any of the generals. Narcian will follow the biggest fish, and Zephiel is a far bigger fish than Guinivere. Brunnya worships the ground Zephiel walks on, and Murdock of course would happily kill the rest of the world if it would make Zephiel happy. Then there's the Dark Priestess, and Guinivere doesn't even know what to make of her, but she does everything Zephiel says without question. There's no hope of swaying those four, or the vast majority of their underlings. And Guinivere hates the idea of hurting or sabotaging any of them, even if she could, even if she has fantasized about wiping that perverted smirk off Narcian's ugly face.

Guinivere's head falls into her arms on the desk. What else?

_...I trust the Fire Emblem is safe? All our plans will mean nothing if that sword is brought out…_

Guinivere's head snaps up again. The Fire Emblem.

She knows where it's kept, of course. Her father showed it to her when she was a girl. The royal family is entrusted with keeping it, and the sword within, safe. A sacred duty passed down from Hartmut himself.

Zephiel doesn't want it being taken. Zephiel thinks that it could destroy his entire plan. Guinivere isn't certain why, but...but that doesn't matter, does it? If taking the Fire Emblem can stop Zephiel, then she has no other choice.

There's a soft knock on the door. "Princess?"

"Come in," says Guinivere automatically.

Elen enters the room, softly closing the door behind her. Everything the girl does is soft. "I ran into Melady in the hall. She told me you're going to Lycia?"

"Yes." Guinivere turns in her chair to face Elen. "I apologize for the short notice."

"It's no trouble." Elen fidgets with the hem of her sleeve. "Um...is there anything I can do to help, Princess?"

"Don't worry about it," says Guinivere quickly. "You don't even have to come with me."

"No, I'd like to come with you." Elen shifts from foot to foot. "I just...was wondering...I want to stop the war too, Princess Guinivere."

"That's a noble sentiment," says Guinivere. "But you don't have to trouble yourself - you're young, aren't you?"

"I'm nineteen, Princess."

"See, you have your whole life ahead of you. You don't need to worry about me. Just focus on yourself, and - " Guinivere stops. She sounds like Zephiel, like her father, like every governess who's ever told her to sit still and stay back and look pretty. Be a porcelain doll on a shelf.

"If there's anything I can do to help - even if it's, well, not really...if it's something I need to keep secret...I'd like to do this." Elen folds her hands in front of her. "Please, Princess Guinivere. I believe in you."

There _is_ something she could do to help, isn't there? The Elimine Church keeps the Shrine of Seals, after all, and Elen was high-ranking enough to be named Guinivere's lady-in-waiting. She most likely knows where it is, and potentially more lore surrounding it.

And Guinivere knows she can trust Elen. The girl's feelings are always written all over her face, and right now there's nothing but genuine hope and enthusiasm there. But still...

"I don't want to drag you into something that could get you killed."

"I do not fear death, Princess. St. Elimine guides me."

Guinivere sighs. "Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"And you're not going to give up unless I allow you to accompany me."

"No, Princess."

"All right." Guinivere sighs. "Just don't tell anyone at all, okay?"

"Not a soul, Princess."

"I'm...going to steal the Fire Emblem, Elen. You know what that means. If we're caught...we'll almost certainly be killed. You don't have to take this risk."

"No," says Elen firmly. "It is my divine calling to protect this world. If you think stealing the Fire Emblem will help end this war, then - then I want to help you steal it. I will."

"...Okay." Guinivere's heart is pounding so hard it hurts. "Tomorrow, you and I will travel to the Shrine of Seals in secrecy. And I'll take the Emblem. The next day, we'll go to Lycia, and we'll slip away from the army on our own. We'll meet with Marquess Ostia, and join with the Lycian League's army. I don't...I'm not sure how to find him, but if he's as strong and popular as Brother says he is, then it shouldn't be too hard. And that's...that's the plan."

Elen listens carefully, and then nods. "I understand. Shouldn't we tell Captain Melady?"

"Ah…" Guinivere freezes.

Melady has a life beyond her. Melady has a family, a legacy, a career. Melady has Zeiss, and Galle. Melady has always dreamed of being a wyvern knight. Melady has always wanted to live up to her father's legacy. Melady would never betray Bern. Forcing Melady to choose would be cruel of her.

She can't tell Melady. She has to leave her behind.

She has to betray her.

"...No," says Guinivere finally, even though speaking the words hurts, feels like ripping her heart out of her chest with bare hands. "No, Melady has her own life to live. I'd rather not drag you into it, either, but you seem to have made up your mind."

"I have, Princess. Is there anything else?"

"No...no. You're dismissed. I will see you tomorrow morning, while Melady is busy preparing to travel. Be ready."

Elen curtsies and leaves the bedroom. Guinivere remains seated at her desk, staring at nothing.

Eventually, she takes out a piece of parchment, uncorks an ink bottle, and writes a letter. She pours her heart into it, everything she's ever said and everything she hasn't and everything she should have, and it's three pages long when she finishes it and seals it in an envelope and writes Melady's name on the front.

Then Guinivere thinks a moment, picks the letter up and casts it into the fireplace. It sizzles for a moment, edges curling and turning black, and then it is nothing but ash.

***

The Fire Emblem feels warm.

It's just a rock, but it glows from the inside like the flame it's named for. Encased in the sacred dragon case, an elegant bronze carving and chain, it hangs around Guinivere's neck, carefully concealed by the red wool of her traveling dress and robe. Guinivere hopes the visible sight of her locket will prevent anyone from suspecting a second necklace.

They only have so much time. Zephiel certainly assigned guards to check the shrine regularly. Soon, someone will notice, and the alarm will be raised, and the message will reach her brother's ears, and Zephiel is not fool enough not to search Guinivere. She needs to make her escape soon. Now, ideally.

"The Lycia border is only miles away," says Melady, entering Guinivere's tent as if on cue. Guinivere knows that. She's been studying the map, now safely lodged in her pack, ever since that night she'd made her plan. "Are you nearly ready?"

"Just about," says Guinivere. She wonders if Melady can hear her beating heart. "Give me a few more minutes."

Melady nods, arms folded behind her. "Very well, but try to be quick. We don't want to fall behind."

Melady walks away, and Guinivere peeks out of the tent flap, watching her walk away to talk with a few gathered soldiers. Her back is to the tent, and she's a good distance away. At Guinivere's request, the tent is pitched as far as feasible from the main army ("It's just so noisy, Melady.") Nobody's watching, not from any direction.

"Elen," Guinivere whispers to the tent's other occupant. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"And...you're certain you wish to do this?"

Elen nods, getting to her feet, and they slip out through the tent door and walk into the woods together. Guinivere doesn't look back, doesn't hesitate, tries not to think, or feel, just to keep moving. Once they're safely among the trees, she takes Elen's hand and breaks out into a run, leaping over errant tree roots, hurrying among the trunks.

"We got out," Elen mutters.

"It's only the first step," says Guinivere. "It won't take long before they come after us. We have to hurry."

"Of course."

It's all risky. Zephiel won't be able to move his cavalry through the trees, and his armored units will take a great deal of time to march, so they won't be able to catch up with two women on foot. But he might well send wyverns to scout ahead, and there's always a chance…

It doesn't matter, Guinivere thinks. It's the only chance she's got, and she has to take it. Even if it means losing everything, and losing Melady, which is far worse.

She runs, she hopes, she mourns, and against her chest, the Fire Emblem gleams.

(History is made.)

***

Of course, it couldn't be that simple.

They hadn't even made it a day. They'd snuck out, they'd run...and then they'd bumbled right into a carelessly-laid trap.

"The princess of Bern," Sir Rude murmurs softly, tilting Guinivere's chin from side to side. "Who'd have thought she would stumble right into my grip?"

Guinivere glares at him. Soldiers flanking her have a tight enough grip on her arms that she can't even gesture.

"You'll fetch a lovely price. Lycia, Ilia, Sacae...all the nobles will pay highly to have the honor of claiming the princess's head." Rude drops Guinivere's chin. "Lock her in the dungeon."

"What about her servant?" asks one of the soldiers, giving Elen a shake. She winces, and Guinivere's heart pangs.

"Throw her in too. She might be worth something." Rude leans back, satisfaction painted across his face. "Things are looking up, boys."

"Sir!" The soldiers march away, dragging Guinivere and Elen between them.

Guinivere's heart is in her throat. They haven't bothered searching her. She has the Fire Emblem still tucked safely under her dress, her staff strapped to her back...and a light tome, strapped to her belt under her robe.

Guinivere has no battlefield experience. She can't outfight them all. And Elen's unarmed, and frailer still. But perhaps, if she gets lucky...

"Milady," says Elen, her voice shaking. "What do we - "

"It'll be all right, Elen," says Guinivere. "Just stay calm." She wishes she could heed her own words - her hands are shaking.

"But…"

They end up in a basement. Guinivere looks from side to side. There are three soldiers, all armed. Most of the guards are outside with Rude, not in the castle - they didn't pass any on the way in. Elen and the guard holding her are closer to the stairs than Guinivere.

Maybe she can't save herself, or Elibe, but she can save Elen. That will have to be enough.

Guinivere jabs her elbow into the stomach of one of the man holding her. Caught off guard, he grunts and loosens his grip, and Guinivere takes the moment granted to reach under her robe and yank out her tome. "Elen, close your eyes!"

Guinivere can just make Elen obeying the order before she slams her own eyes shut and lifts the tome. Light gathers, and flashes - a white glare that Guinivere can see through even her closed eyelids. The men's shouts turn to shrieks of pain.

Guinivere opens her eyes. The man are staggering backwards, clutching their faces, forgetting their duties in their agony. " _Run,_ Elen! Now! Forget me and run! _That is an order!"_

Elen sends her one last frightened look, and then turns and darts up the stairs. One of the men, disoriented, turns to follow her, and Guinivere tackles him from behind, sending them both sprawling across the stone floor. Every moment...every second she can steal for Elen, she has to take.

She dragged Elen into this. She has to get her out of it. Maybe Elen can be safe in Lycia. If she's fast and clever enough, she can sneak past the guards.

Guinivere fumbles her tome open again and manages to shoot one of the guards in the chest before two of them are on top of her, wrestling her back onto the floor, the light tome skidding out of her hand and hitting the wall.

"Ugh…" The tackled man hit his face on the ground, and his nose is bleeding. The man hit with the light tome is lying on the floor, groaning. "I didn't expect a royal brat to put up a fight."

"Where's the other one?" His fellow looks around the room. "She's not here!"

"It was a diversion…" The tackled man scowls. "We'll leave the princess in here, and I'll go report to Sir Rude. He's not going to be happy...if that servant tells anyone what happened here…You carry that idiot and I'll lock the door."

"She should pay for this," the second man snarls.

"Nobody'll pay us for a corpse. Besides, she's all out of tricks. You can see it in her eyes." The soldier stands up, leaving Guinivere prone on the floor. "Come on. No point sticking around with a wild princess."

They collect their fallen comrade and Guinivere's tome. Then they leave, and Guinivere hears the bolt of a lock slide shut behind them.

Hours pass in the dark, dank dungeon. Guinivere curls into the corner and waits, her bruises aching.

Melady's probably looking for her. Zephiel might have ordered it as well. They might know the Fire Emblem is missing, and they might suspect her.

It's for the best, she had thought. But her plan depended on being competent enough to actually make it to the Lycian League. What's the point of doing something heroic if you're not actually good enough to accomplish anything?

The basement's too deep for Guinivere to hear anything, but nobody's returned Elen, which is probably a good sign. Maybe she really did manage to escape. Unless they've just killed her on the spot.

Guinivere tries not to think about that.

Suddenly, there are footsteps, and Guinivere scrambles to her feet, grabbing for the staff strapped to her back. It's not much of a bludgeoning weapon, but it's all she's got. Guinivere takes the stairs two at a time and moves into the shadows around the door. There's some clattering with the lock, and the door creaks open, light from the upstairs hall streaming in.

Guinivere raises the staff over her head and leaps out, and the man standing there shrieks, stumbling backwards. "W-wait! Don't hit me, please!"

Guinivere pauses. The man's short and portly, mostly bald, but his remaining hair and mustache are bright blue. He's wearing a brown robe, and he clearly isn't a guard or part of the Bern army. He's fallen on his backside, grumbling to herself.

Guinivere lowers the staff, but keeps it tight in her hands. "Who are you?"

The man doesn't seem to hear her as he gets to his feet. "Why were you swinging that staff around? You could've really hurt someone! Like me!"

Guinivere lifts the staff again. "I asked, who are you?"

"Ah…" The man eyes it warily. "Merlinus, at your service. Merlinus of Pherae. Just don't hit me with that!"

A young man appears in the hallway behind Merlinus, a knight in red armor. "Everything okay in here? I heard shrieking and groveling."

"P-perfectly fine, Alen! I, er, I think we've found the lady we're looking for! Show her upstairs, would you? I have to go, er, inform Master Roy! At once!" Merlinus scrambles past the knight and back down the hall.

Alen stares after him for a moment, and then turns back to Guinivere. "Were you the lady being held prisoner here?"

"Er." Guinivere blinks. "Yes, I suppose."

"Well, we've taken out Rude. You should be safe now." Alen gestures down the hall. "Come on, your servant's looking for you."

Hope wells up in Guinivere's chest. "You found Elen? She's safe?"

"Yep. And, uh, would you mind putting that staff down?"

"Oh, yes." Guinivere puts the staff away. "I apologize about that."

"Eh, don't worry. Merlinus is kinda lily-livered. This way."

Guinivere follows the knight into the hall and down into the main castle foyer. Merlinus is there, talking to a young man. No, a boy, with vivid red hair and deep blue armor, who turns to face her as she and Alen approach. And standing next to him…

Elen starts, and runs towards Guinivere. "Princess!"

"Elen!" Guinivere catches Elen's hands as the younger woman stops in front of her. "Oh, you're all right, aren't you? You're not hurt?"

"No, no. I'm fine." Elen is beaming. "I ran west, and Saint Elimine sent these brave helpers to me. I asked them for their aid, and helped them make their way here to save you."

"You put yourself in such danger, coming back here. I never knew you would do something so brave for me...I was worried sick about you." Guinivere squeezes Elen's hands.

"I wanted to rescue you no matter what, Your Highness. I apologize for not obeying your orders to save myself." Elen bows her head.

"It's all right, Elen. Thanks to you, I am safe." Guinivere releases Elen and turns towards the red-haired boy, who has walked over to them. "Are you the leader of this group?"

"Yes, milady," says the boy.

"I am in your debt," says Guinivere, curtsying. "May I ask your name?"

"I am Roy, son of Marquess Pherae," the boy answers. He's about Guinivere's height, probably no more than fifteen. But his father is a marquess. His father will know where to find the Lycian League's army. There's no way she can pass up this chance.

"It is nice to meet you, Roy. And I am…"

Elen tugs on Guinivere's sleeve. "Milady, are you sure?"

"It's all right, Elen." She has little choice, at this point. "My name is Guinivere."

"It's a pleasure…" Roy trails off, his brow furrowing. "Wait, Guinivere? Isn't that the name of the princess of Bern?"

"Yes." Guinivere takes a deep breath. "I am the princess of Bern."

Merlinus gasps, shoving an arm in front of Roy. "What!? So this was all a trap, and you're going to attack us now?"

"Stand down, Merlinus." Roy gently lowers Merlinus's arm.

"I beg your pardon, but, Master Roy…"

"I want to hear what she has to say. Can you please leave us be a moment?"

"I suppose if that's what you wish...but if she tries anything, you are to scream, understand?" Merlinus's eyes are narrowed into slits. "She nearly killed me earlier…"

Nearby, Alen snorts.

"If all of you could give us some space," says Roy, his tone mild and pleasant. Guinivere can see calculations whirring behind his eyes.

Merlinus grumbles, but he backs off, walking off to a pile of supplies in the corner. He shuffles through them, eyeing Guinivere.

Roy turns back to Guinivere. "You're really Princess Guinivere of Bern?"

"Yes. I understand if you don't believe me…"

Roy tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. "...Even if you aren't the princess, I can tell you're somebody of noble birth. Your attire, for one, and your speech patterns."

Guinivere nods. "I did not try to hide it."

"But if you are truly Princess Guinivere, there's one thing I can't understand. Sister Elen told us that you came here with intentions to meet with the Lycian League."

"Yes, that's correct."

"Why would the king's sister want such a thing?"

"I want to find a peaceful way to put an end to this war," says Guinivere. "I thought if I could speak with the lords of Lycia, we could find a solution."

"So you don't agree with Bern's actions?" Roy's expression is still calculating. Guinivere wonders who, precisely, this boy is.

"I do not." Guinivere folds her hands in front of her.

"Your brother is the one who began this war. Is it within your power to stop it?"

"I do not know, but I certainly wish to stop it. No, to put it more accurately...the war must be stopped." Guinivere takes a deep breath. "If there is a way, I will find it. I must do everything I can."

"...I see." Roy closes his eyes, thinking for a moment. "Very well. I am on my way to join the Lycian League armies. I shall allow you to accompany us there. We'll meet with Lord Hector and get his thoughts on the matter."

"Honestly?" Hope swells in Guinivere's chest. "You'll really bring me along?"

"Yes. It may be a slim chance, but if there is even a possibility to avoid this war and its bloodshed, then it is worth trying." Roy smiles.

"Thank you! Thank you, so much. Truly."

"I hope this is the start of a strong alliance, Princess Guinivere." Roy holds out a hand.

Guinivere takes his hand and shakes it. "Yes. Thank you for placing faith in me."

"Merlinus," Roy calls, and his adviser immediately reappears at his side. "I have decided to take Princess Guinivere at her word for the time being. Please treat her as a valued member of this army."

"Very well, Master Roy. If it's what you think best." Merlinus bows. "I am at your service, as ever."

Guinivere walks over to where Elen is standing. "Elen, you're free now. I'll remain with Lord Roy's army, but if you wish to make a peaceful life in Lycia, now is your opportunity. You've done well. You're under no obligation to follow me further."

Elen shakes her head. "No, milady. I want to see your dream realized. A world without war and bloodshed...if I can do anything to help achieve that dream, then I will work as hard as I can. Besides, there are no healers serving in Lord Roy's army. I can do good work here."

"If that's truly your wish," says Guinivere. "Thank you for following me, Elen."

Elen beams. "It is no trouble, Princess. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and ensure nobody else is injured."

Guinivere watches her go, hope continuing to do a fluttering dance in her chest.

A chance. It might be slim, but now she has a chance.

Perhaps all the sacrifice will be worth it.

***

She was too late.

Araphen is a wreck. A smoldering wreck, buildings left smashed and demolished, people crying in the streets over freshly-dug graves. Bern had crashed into the town like a battering ram, destroying everything that stood in its wake. And the castle is swarming with Bern men.

"Lord Roy…" Guinivere manages, staring up at the castle. "I'm sorry. I didn't...I didn't think Zephiel would be able to...I knew he planned to invade, but I didn't realize it would be so soon…" _You're a fool, Guinivere. When Zephiel has a plan, he executes it instantly. You should have known better._

"What's done is done, Your Highness. Don't blame yourself." Roy sucks in a deep breath. "Besides, it's not over yet. I've spoken with some of the villagers. It seems that Lord Hector still lives. If we can save him, we'll be able to reunite Lycia and fight back."

"I hope you're right. I'm sorry I can't do more."

"Don't worry. I'm going to recapture Castle Araphen, for all our sakes...and for Lilina's sake…"

"Lilina?"

Roy doesn't seem to hear her. "Let's go, everyone! Princess, remain here in the village. If we don't come back, you should flee."

Guinivere opens her mouth to protest, but Merlinus claps a hand on her shoulder. "Come along, Princess. I'm staying behind too - I'm not much good in combat, either."

"I suppose I would only be a burden," Guinivere murmurs. "Good...good fortune to you, Lord Roy."

Roy nods to her, and then he and his tiny, tiny army set off for Castle Araphen. Guinivere watches him go, her chest tight.

She's sending children to fight her battles.

Battles that only need to be fought because she didn't act quickly enough.

***

Against all odds, Roy's army manages to win the battle for Araphen. Only because Zephiel and the Dragon Generals had already left the castle by the time they made it there, but…

The castle is being searched. Guinivere looks nervously around the foyer, at the bodies being collected and piled up. She's never been on a real battlefield before.

She doesn't care for it.

There's a couple of young boys standing in a corner, one with light brown hair and the other vivid green, looking out of place among the soldiers. They're shooting her furtive looks, particularly the green-haired one, but ducking their eyes whenever Guinivere notices.

"Princess Guinivere," says Roy, walking up to her. "We're searching the castle now to see if we can find Lord Hector. Are you all right?"

"I'm quite fine. But, ah...Who are those children, Lord Roy?"

"They're from an orphanage around here. It seems...the Bern army killed the bishop running it." Roy fidgets with his gauntlet. "They've nowhere else to go, and they want to help our cause."

"The Bern army…" says Guinivere weakly.

"Yes."

"And they're joining us?"

"Yes, they asked, and I couldn't say no."

"But...they're so young. Only boys."

"They're only a couple of years younger than me, Princess."

 _And you're a boy, too,_ Guinivere thinks, but doesn't voice it.

"Master Roy!" Merlinus rushes up to them, panting with effort. "We have found Lord Hector, down in the dungeons!"

"Really?" Roy turns away from Guinivere. "Is he all right?"

Merlinus's eyes drop. "He's severely wounded...this way, milord! Hurry!"

Roy rushes after Merlinus. Guinivere looks over at the Araphen orphans once more.

"Princess," says Elen, coming up beside her. "Are you well?"

"Well enough," Guinivere manages. "Elen…"

"Yes?"

"Bern did all of this. This carnage, this death..."

"Yes, milady."

"Perhaps I could have…" Guinivere stops herself. Elen is several years her junior, after all, kind and agreeable, but not a soldier. Not someone she should drop these burdens on the shoulders of.

"Princess?"

"No, Elen. Don't trouble yourself. I should go see if I can speak with Lord Hector." Guinivere gathers her skirt and sets off towards the staircase Merlinus and Roy descended down.

The dungeon is largely empty. Zephiel had not felt a need to take prisoners. It takes her a moment, but Guinivere locates Roy and Merlinus kneeling over a massive, bearded man in armor, who lies slumped against the wall. He's covered with blood - the stink of it hits Guinivere's nose as she approaches the cell's open door.

"Roy…don't worry...in Ostia...Lilina knows where it is hidden..." Marquess Hector coughs, and Roy grabs his arm. Guinivere hovers by the door, feeling like an intruder.

"...Take care of her, too..." Hector manages. "She...may seem strong...but she is still a child...support her..."

"I will. Of course I will," Roy whispers in a choked voice, taking Hector's hand.

Hector's eyes drift away from Roy, to the wall opposite. "Good...good, Roy. I'm...I'm proud."

"Thank you, sir."

"Hm..." Hector looks as though he is a million miles away. He doesn't seem to notice Guinivere. There are tears in his eyes. "Lilina...just...one more...time..." He coughs, blood staining his beard, chokes, and falls silent.

Roy cries out, and Guinivere turns on her heel and hurries from the room, unable to bear another moment.

She's too late. Hector is already dead. What chance does the Lycia League stand now? Why hadn't she acted sooner?

"Princess Guinivere?" Merlinus comes up beside her. "Are you well? You look faint…"

"I am fine." Guinivere clenches her hands in her skirt. "You ought to look after Lord Roy…"

"Master Roy requested a moment alone. Lord Hector was like a second father to him, you see. Now that he is gone, and Master Roy's father is so ill…" Merlinus shakes his head. "It's a terrible pity."

"Merlinus...who is Lilina?"

"Oh…" Merlinus shifts, his eyes darting from her to the floor. "She is, or was...Lord Hector's daughter. She is about Roy's age."

_No._

"Princess Guinivere?"

"It...is nothing. Please do not mind me. I'm just rather tired."

"Sir Marcus is setting up in some of the spare bedrooms. Why don't you go have a lie down, Princess?"

"Mmm. I'll do that." Guinivere sets off down a hall at random, heart pounding in her chest. Faces and thoughts blur together in her mind, a vortex that makes her feel shaky and ill.

_How many lives, Zephiel? How many orphans? How many, until you are satisfied?_

_What could possibly be worth this price?_

***

Some time later, the group reconvenes. Roy stands with their paltry group, now grown by a few members, in the castle foyer. His eyes are rimmed with red, but everyone seems to be pretending not to notice.

"Lord Hector is gone," says Roy. He looks like the weight of the world has suddenly fallen onto his shoulders. "He told me all he knew before he passed away. According to him, Bern possesses not only a powerful army, but...dragons. The dragons of old, thought to be creatures of myth and legend...are walking among us again, and fighting for Bern."

There's a chorus of gasps from the gathered army. Guinivere clasps her hands to her mouth. _Dragons?_ Zephiel hadn't said a word about such things to her…

...Of course he wouldn't have. He was always trying to hide the army's inner workings from her, either out of protectiveness or expected betrayal...

...But then, was that why Zephiel so feared the idea of the Fire Emblem being stolen? Because of Hartmut's sword, sealed away...because with it, the dragons could be defeated? Understanding descends upon Guinivere in a wave. She clutches at where the Fire Emblem hangs under her dress. Now, more than ever...

"Did you know of this, Princess Guinivere?" Merlinus asks, shaking Guinivere from her reverie.

"I...I did not," says Guinivere. "My brother...rarely confided in me, and I had never directly witnessed his battles. I apologize…if I had known..."

"Don't worry, Your Highness. There is still hope," Roy continues. "With his dying breath, Lord Hector entrusted the Lycian League's army to me. We will travel to Ostia, and we will gather the manpower to defend our lands."

"You will lead the defense?" Guinivere asks.

"Yes. I am the Lycian League army's leader now." Roy looks at her, face set and determined.

 _But you're only a boy!_ Guinivere thinks.

And yet, where else does she have to turn? "Very well, Lord Roy. I shall follow you, and do all I can to help."

"Thank you, Princess Guinivere." The ghost of a smile crosses Roy's face. "And...when we go to Ostia, we'll speak with Lilina. According to Hector, she knows the location of a weapon that can slay dragons, and would help us in our cause."

"That's good." Guinivere swallows. "Lord Roy…"

"Yes?"

"I apologize. For everything that's happened. If I had acted sooner, perhaps - "

"I told you, what's done is done. Please don't dwell on it. You aren't responsible for anything." Roy sighs. "I'm not certain how to tell Lilina, though...We were like siblings, growing up. I should be the one to break the news to her."

Guinivere opens her mouth to apologize again, then thinks better of it. "My condolences for your loss as well, Lord Roy. Merlinus told me you and Lord Hector were close."

"Yes…" Roy stares at the stone floor, his eyes a bit unfocused. "I still can't believe it. But he wouldn't want me to dwell. He always told us...Lilina and me...that we had to keep moving forward, no matter what. Not to let grief or fear weigh us down. So I will." He straightens up. "We head for Ostia tomorrow. Good night, Princess Guinivere."

***

Roy claims Guinivere's tactical advice and knowledge of maps and diplomacy are great assets, but Guinivere isn't so certain. She hates sending others to fight her battles. And they are, she feels, her battles. Out of everyone in this army, she's the only one who could have stopped it all before it started. And she didn't.

Still, Guinivere does her best, drawing up formations and planning with Roy late into the night, and spending the days either marching through Lycia, or waiting in nearby villages or Merlinus's tent, face gray with worry while blades clash and arrows fly a short distance away. Any work she can do, any work she can lift off the others' shoulders, any lives she can potentially save...any of that is worth doing. It keeps her busy, both mind and hands, and even if it doesn't clear her conscience, it keeps her from dwelling on all the things weighing upon it.

It's a long road, but eventually, after many battles, the Lycian League army reaches Ostia. And, with no small amount of difficulty, saves it.

Lady Lilina is the inverse of Roy, with deep blue hair and vivid red robes. She's tall, like her father, a good head above Guinivere despite her young age. She's a little pale as she greets the army, standing in front of the somewhat battered throne of Ostia with a thunder tome clutched to her chest.

"And this is Princess Guinivere of Bern," says Roy. "She's against the war, and trying to help us put an end to it."

"It's nice to meet you, Your Highness," says Lilina, bowing. "I wish Ostia could give you a more welcoming greeting, but I'm afraid things are a bit of a mess right now."

Guinivere's hands curl into her skirt. "Ah…yes, I am...I am terribly sorry about your father, Lady Lilina."

What else can she possibly say? _Don't feel bad, Zephiel killed my father too?_ She feels like a fool.

"Please don't worry about it. Like I said to Roy, I'm a warrior's daughter. Father prepared me for this day." Lilina is smiling, but her eyes are blank. "I think he always expected to die on the battlefield."

Guinivere tries to think of something to say, but every diplomacy lesson fails her.

"Come on, Roy," says Lilina, turning away. "I'll show you to the legendary weapon."

Guinivere watches them go. Next to her, Merlinus shakes his head. "That girl acts far tougher than she is. Just like her father."

Guinivere doesn't hear him.

***

Aquleia is nice enough, Guinivere supposes. She hates being so far from the front, and she hates that Roy's essentially been assigned cleanup duty while Etruria handles the war. Still, if Etruria's providing assistance, she shouldn't complain.

It's being idle that gets her. There's no strategy to plan, maps to study, supplies to manage while Merlinus tries to shoo her away and insist she relax. Instead, all she can do is read, make pleasant conversation, and worry. She ends up trapped in her own head, caught up in doubts and regrets.

"Princess Guinivere? Did you hear me?"

Guinivere starts upright. "Ah, no. My apologies, General. What was it?"

Across the table in the sunlight study, General Cecilia watches her with steady, calculating eyes. "I asked if you were feeling all right. You've been very quiet."

"Just...just a bit tired," says Guinivere.

Cecilia closes her book. "Is something on your mind?"

"Of course. The war, my brother's actions, how Lord Roy is faring…"

"Yes, I assumed so. But is there anything more than that? Anything I can help you with? I've been entrusted with your safety and comfort, Your Highness. Just ask, and I'll do what I can." Cecilia's eyes are kind and gentle. She's not much older than Guinivere, but there's a certain motherly quality to her.

Guinivere shrugs. "There's little you can do, General. But I appreciate it."

"Please, call me Cecilia. Even if I can't do anything...would it make you feel any better if you shared your burdens with me?"

Guinivere hesitates. "Are you...truly all right with that?"

"It's no trouble." Cecilia smiles, setting aside her paperwork and folding her hands on the table in front of her. "Let it all out."

"All right…" Guinivere fidgets. "I...I don't really feel bad about leaving Bern. I mostly feel bad that I didn't do it sooner."

"Well, you did it at all, and I'm certain it wasn't an easy choice to make. Even if you feel you could have done it sooner, that doesn't undo the fact that you did do the right thing eventually. Those things can both be true, you know."

"I suppose…" Guinivere can't quite bring herself to look at the kindness in Cecilia's eyes, so she looks at the engravings on the study wall instead. "It's, I just...you know...well, regardless. It's not leaving Bern that I feel bad about, exactly. It's just that I...I left someone behind."

"Ah." Cecilia nods in the corner of Guinivere's vision. "I see."

"There was...a woman." Guinivere swallows. "My...my lover, yes, but also my dearest friend of many years. And I...left without a word to her. I thought it best. I didn't want to drag her into it all, and I was afraid...the punishment for treason such as mine is death. I couldn't bear to consign her to such a fate."

Cecilia nods slowly. "An understandable decision."

"But she...she loved me. I know that." Guinivere looks down at her hands. "And I left, ran away...without a word to her. She must feel so...abandoned. Betrayed."

"That is probably true," says Cecilia.

"She had a family. Her parents, her brother, her friends...I couldn't take her away from them. I couldn't force her to decide between her country, her dreams, everyone she's ever known...and me. But...the other choice was leaving her behind. And that was what I chose. Either way...either way, I was going to hurt her."

There's quiet for awhile, the only sounds chirping of birds outside and the tick of Cecilia's gilded clock.

"That's a difficult situation, isn't it?" Cecilia leans back in her chair, lips pursed as she looks up at the ceiling. "I wish I had more answers for you. I'm sorry you've been dealing with it all alone."

"I've pushed it all to the back of my mind. I had to, with the war and all, but...it's still hanging over me. And I feel bad about that, too...like I'm trying to forget her. But I could never forget her. Even if we never meet again..." Guinivere bites her lip. "What if we have to face her in battle one day? I can't even fathom the thought, but it...haunts me. Even if she never forgives me, even if she spends the rest of her life hating me...that's all right, as long as she's safe and happy. And if this war rages on...that may prove impossible."

"I know. I'm so very sorry. She was... _is_ a good person?"

"Of course. One of the greatest I know. She was kind, compassionate, fierce, but so gentle..." Guinivere cuts herself off. Talking hurts.

"All I can say," says Cecilia, "is that if she was someone as wonderful as you believe her to be...then if she knew everything, she'd understand why you did what you did. I don't know if that can bring you any comfort."

"It...doesn't. Not really. I'm sorry."

"That's perfectly all right." Cecilia reaches across the table and rests a hand over Guinivere's. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help. But I'm here, if you need me."

Guinivere manages a tremulous smile. "Thank you, Cecilia. I think I would like to retire now…"

"Of course. Rest well."

Guinivere gets to her feet, bows, and leaves the study. She walks with heavy footsteps into her borrowed bedroom, falling onto the mattress with a soft thump. The bed is generous and comfortable, but the space beside her feels all the more present and achingly hollow.

***

Guinivere peers out the window of the old Misul Peninsula castle, watching Cecilia down below. The Mage General's managing to shoot down nearly everyone who gets close to her, and her battle strategies are all but foolproof, but the Loyalist army is starting to falter. Roy's coming, Cecilia said. They just need to hold out until Lycia can come to their aid.

 _Stay inside, stay hidden, and say safe._ Those were Guinivere's orders. Cecilia had lent her an Aircaliber tome, just in case, and Guinivere grips it now in shaking hands. But all the book knowledge in the world won't suddenly turn Guinivere into a soldier.

Her strengths lie elsewhere, Cecilia had said. In diplomacy, and in the political world, she is too valuable to die. Guinivere's not sure she believes that, herself.

There's a shout from the men, prompting Guinivere to lean closer to the window, and her heart sinks. The Bern soldiers are parting, making way for the worst possible arrival. Zephiel is marching across the plains, towards Cecilia, his gleaming armor and Eckesachs's towering form unmistakable. His pace is slow, but businesslike, his face hard and steps steady as both Bern and Loyalist soldiers scramble out of his path.

Cecilia recoils at the sight of the king, but quickly rights herself again on her horse's back. Her tome is held at the ready. But it won't be enough, Guinivere knows. Nobody can beat Zephiel. Not even General Murdock was a match for him, back home. Guinivere's fingers dig into the Aircaliber tome, her nails leaving crescent marks in the leather cover.

Zephiel's voice booms across the suddenly near-silent battlefield. "So...You are Mage General Cecilia."

Cecilia's shaking, but her back is ramrod straight. "...King Zephiel."

"Your battle prowess is most admirable. For that, I shall grant you the honor...of a duel with me."

Cecilia fires the moment Zephiel finishes talking, and Guinivere can feel the rush of wind even through the castle window. But Zephiel steps aside, dodging the blow as easily as breathing. Then he lifts Eckesachs, shifting it into its battle form, and swings, a blow powerful enough that Cecilia is knocked off her horse and thrown backwards, slamming against the castle door with a cacophonous thud that shakes the castle with its force.

Guinivere presses a hand to her own mouth to keep from screaming.

Zephiel returns Eckesachs to its scepter form and shakes his head. "She's already down? I expected more." He turns towards Narcian and speaks with him in low tones Guinivere can't make out. A few Bern soldiers move towards Cecilia, lifting her like a rag doll, and a battering ram is brought towards the locked castle doors.

Narcian turns to the men. "You, there...prepare a prison cell within the castle for the general."

 _So Cecilia's alive._ But quite likely not for long.

Guinivere ducks back in the window and runs along the twisting halls, racing to the back of the fort. There's no back door, Cecilia said, to make the castle easier to defend. But there's one small, secret passageway, narrow enough for only one man to fit through, just in case…and if Cecilia fell, Guinivere was to flee. Cecilia had been explicit on that front.

Guinivere presses her palm to a stone, and the wall creaks open. She slips along the dank, damp passageway, running, nearly tripping on the loose stones. The battle sounds more muffled here in this enclosed, dark space, and Guinivere nearly runs into the door when she reaches the end. With shaking fingers, she pushes the door open and blinks in the bright sun as she emerges from behind the fort.

 _Run,_ she thinks wildly, _It doesn't matter where, just run_ \- and she does, hurrying across the grounds, tome clutched tight against her chest, over her pounding heart.

"Is that a little red rat of a princess I spy?"

Guinivere's blood turns to ice. The voice came from overhead, and she, unfortunately, knows the drawling tone well.

General Narcian is flying over her, circling lower and lower, his violently fuchsia armor stark against the blue sky. There's nowhere to go. She can't possibly outrun a wyvern.

Guinivere fumbles with her tome and holds it aloft. "Don't come any closer, Narcian. I'll fire."

"Mmm…" Narcian picks his teeth, leaning back in his saddle. "Go right ahead."

"I mean it! This tome is Aircaliber! I'll tear you to pieces!" Guinivere focuses, lets the wind collect in her open palm. "I won't warn you again!"

Narcian doesn't slow, and Guinivere swallows hard and fires.

She's scared - she's never killed a man, and Narcian is many things, but he's still a man - and no wyvern could survive such a spell - but there's no other choice, and the white winds surge forth, ripping right through the Dragon General -

\- but when they settle, he looks a little ruffled but no worse for wear, his grin a little deeper, and Guinivere's heart sinks.

Narcian pats a thin blue shield on his arm. "If you actually paid attention in those war meetings, my pretty little highness, you'd know your brother's entrusted me with a Delphi Shield. Your winds aren't going to do a thing to me." He's right in front of her now. "Come quietly, would you? I'm under orders not to let harm befall you, much as I'd like to teach you a few lessons in etiquette..."

Guinivere draws her hand back and slaps Narcian across the face.

It makes a satisfying ringing noise, even if it stings her palm, and Narcian's head actually whips to the side, caught completely off guard. When he refocuses on her, scowling, there's a bright red mark on his cheek.

"You're a monster," Guinivere hisses, shaking her hand to try and return feeling to her wrist. "I've seen what you've done to Elibe. You invade the continent, burn villages to ashes, torture people - there's no price that having someone like _you_ as a general could possibly be worth paying. I may not be able to hurt you - but I can _damn_ well make your life a little more unpleasant. When Roy gets to you, you'll be cut down where you stand - "

"Enough!" Narcian screeches, seizing her by the wrist and yanking her forward. "I don't need to take this from a worthless little brat! You're coming with me, right now!"

Guinivere struggles, knowing the futility of it all, Narcian's gauntlet-clad fingers digging into her skin. He drags her unceremoniously onto his wyvern, Aircaliber falling from her fingers into the grass as they take off.

Narcian is grumbling under his breath as they fly back towards the front of the castle. "Damaging my beautiful face like that? What a spirited little whelp. I'd enjoy breaking her, but I can't invoke His Majesty's wrath like that…"

Guinivere looks over the edge, trying to guess whether she'd die if she hit the ground. Probably. And as little as she wants to be dragged back to Bern, death is no alternative. Either way, the Fire Emblem is warm around her neck, and she can't keep it out of Zephiel's hands much longer.

She's failed, Guinivere thinks, as she sees the hulking mass of her brother's armor in the distance. All the plans, all the struggling, all the fighting...and it didn't mean a thing in the end. Pretty little porcelain doll, trying to fight like a real tin soldier…

"Your Majesty!" Narcian calls, landing on the grass with a rush of wind. His wyvern knights have closed ranks behind him, and Guinivere can hear the sounds of battle raging on in the distance - Roy's forces, most likely, far too late. "We have found Princess Guinivere."

"Good." Zephiel turns to face them. Narcian gives Guinivere a shove between the shoulder blades, and she stumbles off the wyvern, landing on her knees in the grass. "I trust she isn't harmed?"

"No, sire...despite her best efforts."

Guinivere gets to her feet, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Zephiel…"

"Guinivere. So good to see you." Zephiel's face is carved from stone. He somehow looks older than he did when she left.

"Zephiel, please, listen to me." Guinivere folds her hands in supplication. It's the only avenue left to her. "In Lycia and Etruria, I have seen the effects of this war...the suffering it has wrought. Innocents, children, struggling, ripped from their parents…" ... _Lilina...just one more time..._ Guinivere swallows. "Orphans without enough food to eat. Old men and women dying under the hooves of cavalry they can't hope to outrun. Villages burned with their people still in bed. Dreadful crimes. All committed by the army of Bern."

Zephiel only watches her, his face impassive.

"Brother, why? Why did you start this war? Why are you allowing this to happen?" Guinivere's hands tighten, nails digging into her skin. "Why are you and your men killing innocent people?"

"Innocent, you say?" Zephiel's eyes darken. "Don't make me laugh. Jealousy, vanity, greed...in every nation, man fights on thanks to its petty emotions. Men kill each other for the most foolish of reasons. How can you say a single one is innocent?"

"I…"

"The world must be liberated from men's pointless conflict. That is this war's purpose, as you know well."

Guinivere holds on to the furious fire in her belly, lets it build, lets it give her strength. "No, that isn't true. There are good people as well as evil. Far more good than evil. And we have no right to choose when their lives end. Do you truly believe every person who dies in your war deserved their fate?"

"No radical change can occur unless sacrifices are made. It is necessary. They would only grow up to struggle in this broken world."

"The world is flawed, but it isn't broken."

Zephiel's voice is a hiss, quiet enough that even Narcian, leaning down from his wyvern behind Guinivere, most likely can't hear it. "Can a world where a man would kill his own son be called anything but broken?"

"I know you are hurting, Brother. I am so sorry for what happened to you. I truly am. But this isn't the way to end your pain."

"You know not what you speak of, Guinivere. It is not about me. It is about humanity. I am saving humanity from itself." Zephiel's voice resumes its normal tone. "Guinivere, you are my only sister. You are the only one I have left. Therefore, this time, I shall forgive you. But not the next. Do you understand?"

Guinivere lowers her head, furious tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

She can't convince him. She should have known better than to try.

"Narcian!" Zephiel looks over at the simpering wyvern knight. "Wasn't the captain of Guinivere's guards here?"

Guinivere's head snaps up again. A different kind of fear claws at her gut.

"Yes, Captain Melady," says Narcian. "She's in the castle with the advance units."

"Very well. Have her escort Guinivere back to Bern, and ensure that the Fire Emblem is returned to the Shrine of Seals." Zephiel turns towards the fortress, marching through the doors he'd crushed Cecilia against minutes before. "Then report back to me. I wish to hear your plans for greeting the Lycian army. They're mere hours away."

"Yes, sire." Narcian bows. "You two! Bring the princess inside. But, er, gently."

A few foot soldiers step forward and seize Guinivere's arms. She doesn't try to resist. Her heart is hammering as they half-lead, half-drag her inside. Melady is here. Melady is in the castle…

Guinivere left Melady. She betrayed her.

Now she has to face what she's done.

Narcian's guards unceremoniously deposit her in a room in the castle's upper floor before marching out again.

Guinivere's eyes dart around the room, looking for escape. There's a window, but this is the second story of a very tall castle. She'd never survive the jump, and even if she did, she'd break both her legs. The only door is locked from the outside, and the halls are crawling with Narcian's men. She has no weapons, no plan, no options. There's nothing to do but wait.

A few more minutes pass. To Guinivere, they feel like an eternity. And then…

Melady appears in the doorway. She looks a little paler, a little thinner, than when Guinivere last saw her. Her hair has grown out slightly, so that her forelocks brush against her shoulders. Her face is a picture of shock.

She's beautiful, and Guinivere thought she knew that fact as well as her own name, but the force of it hits her harder after their months apart.

For several seconds, they just stare at each other. The door swings shut behind Melady and they both startle.

Guinivere swallows. "Melady…"

"Princess Guinivere!" Melady steps forward. "I...thank goodness you're safe." She reaches out, seems to think better of it, and pulls her arms back to her chest. "I was...I was so worried."

Guinivere only wants to run to Melady, to hold her, to forget everything, to forget Bern and Etruria and all this war and leave it all to resolve itself however fate wished it to. But the dying breaths of countless people still ring in Guinivere's ears, and if she turned her back now, she would never forgive herself.

"Guinivere?"

"I'm sorry I worried you," Guinivere says automatically, snapping back to the present.

"Let's get you out of here. We should return to Bern." Melady steps forward again, close enough to touch, and as her arm moves, Guinivere's eyes fall to the slim sword hanging at her hip. An idea sparks.

It's a horrible thing to do. An awful thing. She doesn't want to do it. She doesn't, but…

But she has to get out of here. She can't let the Fire Emblem be taken back to Bern. She can't help anyone if she's in Bern.

"...Guinivere?"

Melady's posture is relaxed, open, unguarded. Guinivere darts forward and drags Melady's sword from its sheath.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Melady recoils. "Guinivere!"

Guinivere backs away, brandishes the weapon, aiming at Melady's chest.

"Please, put that sword down before you hurt yourself!" Melady lifts her hands to shoulder height, and a part of Guinivere thinks, _of course, so like Melady._ She's not thinking about Guinivere having a sword to her heart. She's only worried about the danger posed to Guinivere by the act of holding the sword.

Guinivere's arms are shaking with effort. She's never held a sword in her life, and this one is small, but still heavy. "Let me go, Melady!"

Melady only stares, her face a mask of horror.

"Please," Guinivere beseeches. "Set me free."

Melady's voice sounds close to tears when she speaks again, but her eyes are dry. "...If I followed that order...what would you do next?"

"I understand that Roy and the Lycian army are nearby…" Guinivere's arms ache.

"You would join the enemy?" Melady looks incredulous.

"If I don't do something, all of Elibe is going to be overrun by Bern! No matter what my brother says, it doesn't change the fact that he is forcing others into submission through power. The future he's creating with this war...it cannot be a good one."

Melady only stares. Her face is filled with hurt, more than Guinivere can bear, but she doesn't look away.

"Melady…" Guinivere lets the sword fall from her hands, and it clangs against the floor. "Please. Let me go."

Melady lowers her head. "...There is…" Her voice is scarcely above a whisper. "There is one thing…"

Guinivere watches Melady grapple with herself, and there is fear and longing and hope and despair all warring within her chest.

Melady takes a deep breath. "There is one thing that I cannot forgive you for. When you left Bern earlier...you didn't come to consult me. Even if you didn't want me with you...you didn't even ask my opinion. Why…?"

Guinivere's hands are shaking again. "I thought...I thought getting involved would destroy your reputation within Bern. You would be branded a traitor. Your family, your friends, your dreams...since the day we met, all you wanted was to be a wyvern knight. I couldn't ask you to turn your back on that."

Melady's head snaps up. "Did you think I would prioritize my reputation above _you?_ Did you honestly think I would care about such a thing?"

Guinivere steps backwards, shocked by the fire blazing behind Melady's eyes. "I - I only - "

"I am your loyal knight more than I am a knight of Bern." The fight seems to sink out of Melady, and her voice breaks. "That has been true since the day I was knighted."

Tears begin to roll down Guinivere's face. "Melady…"

"If you tell me to let you go, I will follow your order with pleasure. You need no sword or title to convince me." Melady smiles weakly. "You never have."

"So…"

"If you want to go...we'll go. Together."

Guinivere sinks to the ground, overwhelmed, her tears becoming sobs. "Melady...thank you. Thank you...so much…"

Melady kneels in front of her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you...I'm sorry I ran away...I'm sorry for pointing a sword at you...I..." Guinivere nearly chokes on her sobs. "I...I just wanted...to keep you safe..."

"I don't care about any of that," says Melady gently. "You're forgiven. You've been through a lot. I'm sorry I wasn't at your side."

"That was my own fault."

"Come on." Melady takes her hand. "Let's go meet with Lord Roy."

Guinivere sniffles, and lets Melady tug her to her feet. "How? There are guards everywhere…"

"You didn't seem concerned when you were telling me to let you go."

"I...I wasn't thinking ahead…" Guinivere feels overwhelmed, the events of the last hour weighing down on her.

"Come on," says Melady gently, scooping up her sword from the ground and returning it to her waist. "Zephiel won't linger here. And I can handle Narcian. This way." She opens a huge glass window and peers down. "There's nobody watching us. They're all busy facing the Lycian army."

"Roy's that close?"

"He's crossing the bridge now." Melady whistles out the window, and Trifinne appears almost instantly, flying up alongside it. "Let's go."

Guinivere walks over to Trifinne. "Hi, girl. Remember me?"

Trifinne rubs her snout against Guinivere's cheek and snorts.

"Of course she does," says Melady. "Are you ready?"

Guinivere wipes her eyes. "Yes. I'm eager to get out of here. Besides, perhaps with our aid, Roy will be able to save General Cecilia."

Melady takes Guinivere's hand and helps her out the window onto Trifinne's back before climbing up in front of her. "Please hold on tightly."

Guinivere wraps her arms around Melady's abdomen and squeezes (for a few reasons.) "Holding on."

They take off, swooping low over the battlefield. Roy's army is indeed on the far side of the bridge, and Narcian's army, fighting for their lives, takes little heed of another wyvern rider swerving between them. Guinivere clings tightly, burying her face in Melady's shoulder and closing her eyes as arrows, javelins, and flashes of magic zoom past.

"We're nearly there," Melady mutters. "Hold on - "

Guinivere nods against Melady's back. She's scared, sure, but Melady's there, here, in her arms, and that fact feels like stronger protection than Narcian's Delphi Shield.

Guinivere's eyes fly open when the shouting gets louder, just in time to see Roy standing below them, his division of archers lifting their bows and aiming towards Trifinne seemingly as one.

Melady's voice rings out through the chaos, strong and true. "Please, hold your fire!" Melady removes her lance from its holster in the saddle, lifts it above her head, and then tosses it to the ground at Roy's feet before doing the same with her sword. "I am not your enemy!"

Roy peers up at her, shielding her eyes with a hand, and then throws an arm in front of the archers. "Let her pass!"

Merlinus comes panting up beside Roy. "Master Roy, she may be lying…"

"Killing a messenger would go against the knight's code. Father would never forgive me." Roy shakes his head. "And I would never forgive myself. Land and speak your message!"

Melady lands Trifinne on the bridge. "Are you General Roy?"

"I am. And you are?"

Guinivere slides down from the saddle. "Roy!"

"Princess Guinivere?" A smile breaks out across Roy's face. "You're safe!"

"Yes...thanks to her." Guinivere takes Melady's hand. "She helped me."

"My name is Melady. I am...I _was_ a soldier of Bern. It is a pleasure to meet you." Melady nods.

"Roy," says Guinivere urgently, "General Cecilia is alive."

"Really?"

"Yes, although severely wounded. She's being held in the castle."

"Thank the gods…" Roy stands a little straighter. "We have to rescue her!"

"I am happy to be of assistance," says Melady. "Use me as you see fit."

"Very well. Merlinus, return her weapons."

"But…" Merlinus is cowering away from Trifinne's jaws.

"Merlinus, Guinivere trusts her. That's enough for me. Besides, we need all the help we can get in this fight."

"I suppose…" Merlinus collects Melady's lance and sword. "Princess Guinivere, come back to the healing tent. Sister Elen will be relieved to see you safe."

"All right." Guinivere looks up at Melady and squeezes her hand. "Be safe, Melady."

"Of course, Your Highness."

 _Your Highness?_ "Melady - "

Melady tugs her hand from Guinivere's and takes her lance. "I am at your command, General Roy."

"This way, Guinivere." Merlinus ushers her away, back through the crowds. "My goodness, it's amazing that you're well! We feared the worst, when we heard Cecilia had fallen…"

"Princess Guinivere!" Elen is running towards her. "You're all right!"

"I am," says Guinivere, automatically. "I apologize for worrying you."

Elen curtsies. "I'm just glad you're safe. Come, this way…"

As Elen leads her away, Guinivere's mind is still stuck on the last few minutes. On the cold tone in Melady's voice, and Melady pulling her hand away from hers.

_Your Highness._

What has she done?


	4. rubies

The battle for Misul Peninsula is long and fierce. But eventually, the Bern army is defeated, although Narcian had apparently already left the castle by the time Roy's army is able to seize the castle. Guinivere's slightly disappointed.

More disappointing, however, is that she hasn't gotten a single second alone with Melady since their rejoining the Lycian army. The anxiety that flared in Guinivere's chest at Melady's formal tone earlier still hasn't settled. And she can still feel the impossible weight of that sword in her hands.

An impromptu war council is called in the old castle's slightly decrepit dining room. Roy sits at the head, flanked by Merlinus and Lilina. Next to Lilina sits a tall, muscular woman, and beside her, a thin, pale blond man whose eyes are shut.

"Princess Guinivere," Roy greets her when she enters. "It's good to have you back with us."

"Thank you, Roy. I am happy to be back." Guinivere takes her seat. "I see you have some new faces."

"I'll introduce everyone once we're all here," says Roy. "Oh, Captain Melady. Thank you for coming."

Melady steps through the door, her posture hesitant. Guinivere notices she's left all her weapons behind. "Are you...certain you want me here?" She looks around the room. "I'm not of any sort of noble birth…"

"Neither am I!" says the muscular woman cheerfully.

"You were in the Bern Army," says Roy simply. "If you have any intelligence to share...we would love to hear it."

"I'm not certain I can be of much help…" Melady wrings her hands together. "And I was fighting alongside Bern only this morning."

"You fought well with us today," says Roy, his tone still mild and pleasant. "And Princess Guinivere has vouched for you. I see no reason not to trust you."

"...Very well." Melady sits next to Guinivere. "If my mistress wishes it, I shall stay."

Her _mistress?_

There's a soft shuffling at the door, and two figures appear. Roy leaps to his feet. "General Cecilia! You shouldn't be up and about!"

Cecilia is leaning heavily on the shoulder of a girl in violet robes. Her face is heavily bruised and there are bandages wrapped around half her body, but she manages a smile. "Don't worry, Roy. I'm not quite in fighting shape yet, but it doesn't take much energy to sit in a meeting. Please, don't fuss so."

The girl nods. "I'll...help her."

"If you insist," Roy sighs, retaking his seat, and the girl settles Cecilia into a chair before seating herself. "Then we're all assembled."

"Wait!" Cecilia's head has snapped up, and she's staring at the blonde man across the table. "Who…who is..."

"My name is Elffin," murmurs the man, not opening his eyes. "I am a simple bard of the Western Isles."

Cecilia frowns, leaning forward. "But…"

"He's been serving as our tactician," says Roy. "I'd gotten rather used to Princess Guinivere helping out with such matters. In her absence, we needed all the help we could get. "

"I apologize for that," Guinivere mumbles.

"No need." The bard still doesn't open his eyes. Guinivere wonders if he can see at all. "I am happy to be of assistance. I wished to see the Western Isles liberated."

Cecilia leans back in her seat, arms folded.

"Is something the matter, Cecilia?" Roy asks, brow tight with concern.

"It's...nothing." Cecilia sighs, then winces. "Never mind. I'm sorry for the interruption."

"Well," says Roy. "We're all here now, so introductions are in order. I am, of course, Roy of the Lycian Army, the acting commander. This is my adviser, Merlinus, and Lady Lilina, head and acting marchioness of House Ostia." Lilina waves. "And this is Princess Guinivere of Bern - you all know the circumstances there. This is Commander Echidna, leader of the resistance force in the Western Isles - she was instrumental in our making it as far as we have in Etruria." Echidna nods. "And with her is Elffin, a bard who also serves in said resistance." Cecilia is still staring at Elffin, but if he's noticed, he's ignoring it. "Captain Melady here has just joined us - she is a former soldier of Bern who has agreed to aid our cause. And finally, Mage General Cecilia of Etruria, and…" Roy gestures to the violet-clad girl, and pauses. "I apologize. We spoke briefly earlier, but I do not know your name."

The girl nods. "I am...Sophia. A priestess of Arcadia…"

"...Arcadia?"

"Yes…"

"She has something to tell you, Roy," says Cecilia. "Go on, then."

Sophia takes a deep breath. Speaking seems to be difficult for her. "Arcadia...our home...lies to the east...in the Nabata Desert. We were always hidden...but Bern...found us...and…"

"They attacked?" Roy asked.

"Yes...I fell behind...I was captured…" Sophia stares at the tabletop.

"I see…" Roy leans back in his chair, frowning. "But why would Bern go after a small, hidden village?"

"It seems most likely that they...found out about the dragons living in Arcadia…"

"Dragons?" Roy's mouth falls open.

"Yes...once, a long time ago, Arcadia...was a place where people and dragons lived together in harmony…" Sophia closes her eyes. "Please...Lord Roy, save our village!"

"Can we really believe her, Master Roy?" Merlinus strokes his beard. "It's a farfetched story…"

"Even if it isn't really a village of dragons, I believe that her village is under attack by Bern. We ought to help them. Besides, Sophia saved General Cecilia's life with her medical treatment. We owe her a debt."

Sophia's eyes open, and she slowly lifts her head. "You'll...help…?"

"Yes. We'll save your village, Sophia."

Sophia rests a hand on her chest. "Thank you…I'll try to assist you...however I can..."

"I'll ask you more about your village and the dragons later, Sophia. But there's another conversation I want to have." Roy turns towards where Melady and Guinivere are seated. "Captain Melady?"

Melady starts. "Please, I'm no captain now. Just Melady."

"Melady, then. I wanted to know if you knew anything of Bern's movements, or their plans in this war."

Melady lets out a long sigh. "If I knew more, I would gladly tell you. But I'm afraid I have had no involvement in the war thus far."

Merlinus snorts. "You were a captain! Are we really supposed to believe that?"

"I was the captain of Princess Guinivere's guard," says Melady, her tone calm and level. "For the first part of the war, I remained in Bern with her. Around when Lycia was invaded, she disappeared. I've spent the last months focused on the search for her. I was not privy to the king's plans, nor did I ever see the battlefront. I apologize."

"Really? All you did was look for her?" Merlinus narrows his eyes.

"Yes. It was difficult to move within Lycia as a soldier of Bern, but I did my best. Then, I followed your army to the Western Isles, only to learn that Her Highness was no longer among you. We - that is, myself, and a few old friends I asked for assistance - came to suspect General Cecilia was harboring her. When she was cornered, I accompanied General Narcian's army in hopes of finding the princess. That is the truth." Melady bows her head. "Again, I apologize. But I am a bodyguard before I am a soldier. I doubt I have any intelligence that you don't already have, although I am happy to share what little I know."

Guinivere thinks of Melady spending months searching the continent, all for her, and swallows hard against the lump rising in her throat.

"There is one question I have, to both you and to Princess Guinivere," says Roy. "Do you think Zephiel will return to this castle if he knows we have won the battle and that the princess is here? Our forces are exhausted, but if we need to flee, we will. We are unprepared to face him in combat."

"I...do not think so," says Guinivere.

"Really? I thought King Zephiel was after the Fire Emblem," says Lilina. "Won't he come after it?"

"I do believe that he would return...if he knew," says Guinivere slowly. "But I don't think he will find out any time soon…"

Next to her, Melady makes a noise of understanding.

"What if one of the soldiers happened to escape?" asks Cecilia. "Wouldn't he receive a report?"

"The soldiers here were all part of General Narcian's division," Guinivere says. "They will report to him. And Narcian...will not tell my brother about this failing."

"Why wouldn't he?" Lilina frowns.

"He is…" Guinivere struggles to explain. How does one even describe Narcian? "He is a fool. He thinks too much of himself and his abilities. And he is also a coward. He fears my brother. Zephiel will be furious when he hears of this, and Narcian wishes to avoid that. So Narcian will drag things out as long as he possibly can. He'll likely retreat and try to send his subordinates to finish us off...those he has left, anyway."

"We can handle that," says Roy. "I'll have a rotating guard overnight. You're certain Zephiel won't come?"

"Positive," says Guinivere. "Believe me, Narcian's cowardice will be our salvation. We should leave tomorrow, though. Zephiel will eventually force the information out of him."

"Very well," says Roy. "I believe you. Sophia, if you could come with me and Elffin. We need to know the location of this Arcadia. The rest of you, get some rest. We'll move out again in the morning."

Lilina helps General Cecilia to her feet, and they all file out of the room. Melady nearly races ahead of everyone, disappearing down the corridor before Guinivere can even open her mouth.

Heavy-hearted, Guinivere walks back to the chamber she'd been sleeping in the last few nights. It's a little dusty, but reasonably comfortable, especially compared to some of the places the Loyalists have had to stay in lately. Elen's already there, turning down the bedclothes.

"Elen, how did you know I was staying here?"

"I asked General Cecilia, milady." Elen curtsies. "I...I missed you. I wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

"Ah...thank you."

"Is there anything else you require for the night, Your Highness?"

"I…" Guinivere pauses, thinking of Melady's formal, distant tone.

She can't leave things like this, awkward and suspended. She can't bear to. She has to make them right.

"Elen, can you have Melady come here?"

"Yes, of course."

"Tell her it's urgent."

"I shall. Goodnight, Princess Guinivere." Elen curtsies again and leaves the room. Guinivere sits down on the edge of the bed, facing the door, her heart pounding.

It only takes a few minutes, but to Guinivere, it feels both like an eternity and no time at all before there's a sharp, professional knock on the door.

"Enter, please," Guinivere calls.

Melady steps inside, carefully shutting the door behind her. She bows her head. "You wished to see me, Your Highness?"

The title sends another stab of pain through Guinivere's heart. This is Melady. Her Melady, the one she's loved since before she knew what the word meant, the one she's shared her heart with -

"Your Highness?"

Guinivere takes a deep, steadying breath. "I wanted to give you a proper apology, Melady. I am truly, deeply sorry for not sharing my plans with you, and moreso, for threatening you earlier today. I know that was hurtful, and unkind of me, and…" She swallows. "If there is anything I can do to make amends, simply name it. I swear, I'll do whatever I can - "

"You don't have to apologize, Princess," says Melady, staring at the wall above Guinivere's head. "I understand your actions, and have made peace with them."

Quiet hangs in the air between them.

"If that is all," says Melady, "then I will be going - "

"Wait!" Guinivere blurts out, and Melady freezes. "Wait - if not that, then what's wrong, Melady? Please, just tell me."

"Nothing is wrong, Your Highness."

"I'm afraid that sentence contradicts itself. 'Your Highness?' Since when do you call me that when we're alone together?" Guinivere gets to her feet. "You're acting distant, and I want to know why. If you're hurting, let me in! If I've done something wrong...then I beg of you, tell me!"

Melady's face twists with pain, and Guinivere reaches for her, then hesitates, hand hanging in midair. "You have...done nothing wrong."

"Then what?" Guinivere tries to force down the long-festering lump in her throat to no avail, her eyes pricking with tears. "What is it? Why are you treating me like...like a princess? Please, Melady!"

Melady hangs her head.

"Please…" Guinivere whispers.

"You...are a princess," Melady says at last. "Of course, I knew this. I learned it the day we met. I cannot...I am merely a knight. I have no royal blood. I am not an appropriate match for the princess of Bern."

"That never mattered to you before."

"Before...you were only a princess, the younger sister of a king. Now...if this war is won, you will be queen of Bern, won't you?"

"I...I suppose."

Melady looks up. Her face is pinched, her emotions held tightly in check once again. "Everyone in the court knew...the contempt King Desmond felt towards his own son. The child he fathered from a loveless marriage to a lady of Etruria...as opposed to his love for the daughter he had with his beloved mistress, a commoner of Bern."

Understanding crashes into Guinivere like a wave, staggering her.

"If you are to be queen...you will be married off to a high-ranking noble. You won't be able to...to love me. And I cannot condemn your potential children to the fate you and your brother have faced. Nor can I...nor can I bear to only be mistress to the queen while she marries another." Melady's voice sounds ragged, broken. "I could not...it is too much to ask of me."

Guinivere blinks away tears. "So...that's why?"

"I will always be your loyal knight. But I cannot be a lover to Bern's future queen." Melady bows her head. Her voice sounds choked.

"I thought...I thought you didn't love me anymore," Guinivere manages.

"How could I not?" Melady's voice is hardly above a whisper, but it pierces right through Guinivere's heart, leaving pain in its wake. "To my grave, I will love you! But it is...it is better this way. I don't want you to go the same way as your father. I apologize for hurting you. But our relationship...must end."

"...Must it?"

"I have told you, I cannot - "

"Please listen to me, Melady." Guinivere fights back her tears. "I love you. I always have. I always will. And I can't let you go."

"...Did your father not say the same to your mother?"

It feels like Guinivere is being stabbed in the chest, repeatedly, every word another blow. Her fingers curl around her locket. "He did."

"Then how can I believe you?"

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do! With my life! But your duty must be to Bern first, mustn't it? You cannot give up your claim to the throne for a lover! And I would not ask such a thing of you."

"I am not my father, Melady." Guinivere takes a shaky breath. "I won't let them take you away from me. And I won't let myself go down the road my father went down."

"You won't have a choice."

"Please, allow me to finish. My father...was a coward. He feared defying his parents, his advisers, the Bern nobles...But that was in a different time. Zephiel has had many of the higher-ranking Bern nobles killed, and many who remain will be removed from their posts by the time I am queen."

"But there will be new nobles…"

"I don't care," says Guinivere simply. "I'm stronger than my father. I'll fight for you. The way my father never fought for my mother."

"But they could depose you as queen!"

"The only remaining rightful heir? Father had no living family. I would like to see them try." Guinivere's smile has no humor in it. "Besides...my brother's popularity has fallen drastically due to his actions. Yet he rules still. An unpopular queen is still a queen. And I have no intention of letting Bern remain the way it was before the war began. I already intended to rebuild from the ground up - to create a country known not for war, but for peace. A country that values its people's happiness above its military. A country where the power of the nobility is no longer the beginning and the end of its politics. I will work as hard as I can. What is one more mountain to climb, when I already have a full range ahead of me?"

Tears are rolling slowly down Melady's face.

"I will not be a puppet queen. I will not be a shining figurehead. I am going to change Bern. I am going to change Elibe. And the only person I want at my side while I am doing that...is you. Please believe me, Melady. I am not my father. I will not lead you on while marrying another to save face." Guinivere tentatively holds out a hand, palm up. "I have no way to prove my words. All I can ask...is that you believe in me. I will reclaim Bern, and I will take the throne, and you will be beside me. To live in a world of peace with you...that is my dream, and I'm going to fight for it."

Melady stares at Guinivere like she's never seen her before. "You would really...do all of that?"

"For you, anything."

Melady looks at Guinivere's outstretched hand, and then at her face. Minutes tick into eternities, endless heartbeats, the entire world tensed in anticipation.

Then, Melady reaches out, and places her hand in Guinivere's. Guinivere rests her other hand atop it.

Melady swallows. "You're crying."

"You are, too." Guinivere manages a shaky smile. "I - "

Melady's lips crash against hers.

Guinivere is only shocked for a moment before she returns the kiss, twining her arms around Melady's neck and dragging her closer. Melady tastes like smoke and sweat, yes, but also like home, and peace, and hope, and the future. When Melady breaks the kiss, they both gasp for air before diving in again, trying to make up for months apart with one night together. And it's not enough, it's never enough, Guinivere could spend her whole life kissing Melady, and Guinivere knows - there is nothing in this world she cherishes more than the red of wings and roses.

"I love you," Guinivere gasps out as Melady presses her down against the foot of the bed. "I - let me show you how much. Please - "

"I'm yours," Melady breathes, the soft sound of it sending goosebumps down Guinivere's spine. "Always."

***

Guinivere wishes she could be returning to Aquleia under better circumstances. Then again, considering she left it fleeing on the back of Cecilia's horse while arrows flew past, any circumstances are better. At the very least, they face little resistance, with civilians fleeing indoors and not a soldier in sight as they approach the castle, making a temporary camp in its towering shadow.

"We'll be charging Aquleia Castle today," says Roy. "Thanks to the Church, we won't face much opposition...until we're inside. Narcian has mustered the last of his forces there."

"I'm more than ready to dispose of Narcian," says Guinivere, poring over the castle map courtesy of General Perceval. "But he has a Delphi Shield. We won't be able to rely on arrows or wind magic."

"No shield's going to do much against an ax to the face," says Echidna, hauling said ax across her shoulders. "If we keep our wits about us and stick together, we'll be able to take him out."

"We must spare Douglas," Elffin murmurs. "He is...an asset. He cannot be killed here."

"I agree," says Cecilia. "If we're able to save the king, I'm certain he will join with us."

"Will he attack?" Roy asks.

"Well…" Cecilia hesitates.

"Almost certainly," says Elffin. "We may need to lure him away from the pack, or use magic to enchant him. But he must not die."

"Very well," says Roy. "We'll do what we can."

"There will be long-range mages in the towers," Cecilia continues, tapping a few points on the map. "They've always been a cornerstone of Etrurian defenses. We must move cautiously."

Guinivere taps her chin. "We may need to focus on baiting out and separating their forces before we begin a charge on the throne room. The pegasus knights will be able to handle the mages, and a quick swordsman should be able to evade Douglas. That way, the rest of our forces can focus on Narcian."

"My thoughts precisely," says Cecilia. "Above all, we must exercise caution. But I think we're as well-prepared as we can be."

Roy rolls up the map. "Then it's time to head out." He walks out of the strategy tent into the street, where the army is gathering, and the others follow.

It's easy to pick out a wyvern among the crowd. Guinivere hurries over, and Melady turns when she hears her approach.

"What's with the worried face?" Melady asks, her tone more gentle than her words. "It'll be all right. You've seen me in action before."

"Yes…" Guinivere clasps Melady's hand. "But it never gets easier. The waiting."

"We'll be fine." Melady bends down to kiss her. "You'll see."

"Just come back."

"Of course I will." Melady climbs onto Trifinne's back. "I'll see you once Etruria's freed."

Guinivere smiles. "I am holding you to that."

***

"It's done," says Roy, greeting Guinivere at the palace doors. "Aquleia has been liberated, and Etruria is safe once again."

Guinivere scans the army as she walks down the castle hallway. "Is everyone all right?"

"Yes, no casualties," chirps Lilina, bounding up alongside them. "Melady's okay too, Your Highness."

Guinivere feels her cheeks color. "I didn't say - "

"It's okay. I know." Lilina winks. "She's in the throne room. Right this way. She stabbed Narcian, you know. Knocked the shield right off his arm and went right through him, and then Cecilia and Echidna handled the rest! Kind of gross, but pretty exciting."

"...Thank you, Lilina."

Lilina shoulders the throne room doors open. "General Douglas and General Perceval have gone to find the king, and we're just cleaning up in here."

There's a shape under a sheet that Guinivere assumes was once Narcian, but she doesn't pay it any mind, focusing instead on the redheaded figure standing near the throne. "Melady!" Guinivere calls out, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Are you all right?"

"Perfectly fine," says Melady, walking over and kissing her brow. "And look who I found!"

Guinivere turns. A redheaded young man leading a wyvern is staring at them. "Zeiss? Oh, I'm glad you're safe!"

"Sure you are." Zeiss's brow is furrowed.

"He's joining us. Narcian tried to...dispose of him, it seems, but he's safe," says Melady.

"Thank goodness." Guinivere squeezes her hand. "I'm so glad."

"I should go make my report." Melady turns away. "I'll be back later."

"Love you," Guinivere says, quietly enough that only she can hear.

"You too." Melady smiles as she leaves the throne room.

There's an awkward quiet in the air. Zeiss walks up to Guinivere, armor creaking. "Your Highness?"

"Yes?"

"Just…" Zeiss's breath comes out in a huff. "I don't know if I trust you as a leader yet. According to Melady, you've got grand dreams, but I don't know that I can believe them until I've seen them for myself."

"That's perfectly fine," says Guinivere. "I - "

"But there's one thing I definitely don't trust about you." Zeiss's eyes narrow. "You broke my sister's heart."

Cold ice fills Guinivere's veins.

"You should've seen her. She overturned half the continent trying to find you. She brought in Galle and his squad, too, but she couldn't hunt you down. She didn't even know if you were safe. And it was tearing her apart. She pretended to be fine, but I could tell, and I found her crying in Galle's arms at least twice. "

Guinivere can only stare, horror clawing at her stomach.

"She'd be furious if she knew I was talking to you like this, but she isn't here." Zeiss's tone is low as he leans down towards Guinivere. "I'll serve you as a soldier. As a leader, I'll wait and let you prove yourself. But as my sister's girlfriend? She could've done better."

"Of course," says Guinivere weakly. "I didn't want to hurt her, but - "

"But you did. So…I don't trust you. Don't pull a stunt like that again, Princess." Zeiss draws back, and his voice is back to its normal tones. "Now, Elen's here, isn't she?"

"Yes…"

"I should go talk to her, then. If you would excuse me, Your Highness." Zeiss turns on his heel and marches out of the room.

Guinivere hugs herself, staring at the floor.

***

Etruria is saved, another legendary weapon has been claimed, and another step forward has been taken.

But Guinivere knows where those steps are leading.

"Princess Guinivere," says Roy, walking up to where she and Melady are standing in a spare room of Aquleia castle, watching Merlinus pack the army's supplies. "There's something I have to talk to you about."

Guinivere closes her eyes, holds her breath for a count, and then opens them again. "...Is it that we will be marching on Bern once our business here in Etruria is complete?"

Roy blinks. "Did someone already tell you?"

"No...but I knew it was coming." Guinivere keeps her tone cool and level, despite her churning stomach. Melady takes her hand.

"Well, you thought correctly." Roy sighs, running a hand over his hair. He looks much older than he did when they first met. "We can't leave Bern to its own devices any longer. I know it will be hard for you to see your home invaded, but…"

Guinivere reaches for the chain of the Fire Emblem's case, an impossible weight around her neck she has carried for months. Melady and Roy both stare as she pulls it free from her dress and carefully unlocks the curled-dragon locket binding it. The tiny gem glows softly as she removes it from the case and cups it in both palms.

"Roy...I'm giving this to you." Guinivere holds out her hands.

"Is this…?"

"Yes. It is Bern's greatest treasure...the Fire Emblem."

Roy's mouth falls open.

"In the south of Bern there is a temple known as the Shrine of Seals. In it lies the sword that once belonged to Hartmut, Bern's founder." Guinivere places the gem in Roy's unresisting hands and curls his fingers around it. "You'll need the Fire Emblem to get inside."

"This sword...is it a legendary weapon? Like Durandal and the rest?"

"Yes." Guinivere steps back. "Perhaps the most powerful of them all. It was a sword made to slay the dragons' leader during the Scouring...the Dark Dragon. But it was so powerful that after the war, Hartmut sealed it away. The Fire Emblem is the key to opening that seal."

"The key…" Roy says slowly.

"My brother is trying to use his power to force the world into submission. No matter who is doing so, no matter the reasons...such a thing is unforgivable." Guinivere reaches for Melady again, seeking that quiet support, and Melady answers without a word, simply taking her hand. Guinivere holds on, tightly, an anchor as the world storms around her.

Guinivere takes a deep breath. "To stop him, all we can do is defeat the dragons at his side. And to do that, to fight that battle...we will need the Fire Emblem, and Hartmut's sword. We will need to...to wage war."

"Princess Guinivere…" Roy looks down at the Fire Emblem.

"Now that you have the Fire Emblem, there is no going back." Guinivere manages a rueful smile. "...For all of history, I may well be remembered as the woman who betrayed her nation."

"That's not true…"

"But it is. All my life, some will hate me as a traitor. But I am doing what I know to be right. Lives are important, and no Bern life is more important than a life from any other nation. I must save as many lives as I possibly can. And the only way to do that...is to stop my brother. But Roy...you must promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"When Bern is invaded...promise me no harm will come to the civilians."

"They will be safe. I can promise you that." Roy holds the Fire Emblem against his chest. "I will make good use of the trust you have placed in me, Princess Guinivere. I swear it."

"...Thank you. You must excuse me." Guinivere nods her head. She rushes off, Melady following her, their hands still joined.

Once they've made it outside, onto the castle grounds, Guinivere pauses and leans against a tree, sucking in a deep breath.

"You did the right thing," Melady murmurs, slipping an arm around her. "I know it was difficult."

"I don't...I don't want to invade Bern." Guinivere leans her head against Melady, releasing her hand to wrap an arm around her waist instead. "I know Roy will do his best, but...there will be many casualties, and there are certain to be civilians among them."

"And your brother?"

"Yes. Of course." Guinivere takes another deep breath. "In some ways...I think my father's attempt to kill my brother may have been successful. The Zephiel I knew died that day." Buried forever in the lily-shrouded coffin. "I'm...I'm glad Zeiss is safe, at least. And your father is retired."

Quiet hangs between them for several long moments.

"I am concerned about Galle," Melady says at last. "He will not...he will never leave Bern. I know that well."

"I'm sorry," Guinivere says. "I wish I hadn't put you in this position…"

"No. I wish I had possessed the courage to do the right thing on my own, before I met you again. I knew this war was evil, but I thought...I thought none of it mattered, as long as you were safe. That was selfish of me. But now...now I understand what you're fighting for. And I wish to fight for the same thing."

"Few others feel that way. I may well end up the most unpopular queen in the history of Bern," Guinivere muses.

"Nonsense. Anyone meets you loves you."

"Hardly the truth, darling." Guinivere thinks of the cold rage in Zeiss's eyes. The cold, justified rage.

"Regardless...you have always held your head high, no matter the circumstances. I know you will be able to rebuild Bern. If anyone can do it...you can." Melady presses a kiss to the top of Guinivere's head. "And I'll be at your side, all the way through."

Guinivere smiles against Melady's shoulder. "That is...the most reassuring thing I can hear."

***

Ilia is cold, everyone says. The expressions used in the rest of Elibe are manifold - "warm as winter in Ilia," "common as Ilian sunshine," "heart like an Ilian mountain." But cold barely seems to adequately describe the freezing air, the stinging, deep snow, the dark, craggy mountains, the gray spun-wool clouds covering a sky that never seems bright even in the middle of the day. Though they've spent a few good months in the mountains, Guinivere still feels unaccustomed to it, shivering as she looks at the looming shape of Edessa Castle in the distance.

"When this is over," says Melady gently, "we'll be done here, and we'll be able to go somewhere nice and warm."

"Yes," says Guinivere. "We'll be going to Bern."

"It'll be all right." Melady's smile is the only thing warm enough to penetrate the layers of chill. "We're strong enough. We'll take those armies down and make it through. And then...then we'll be able to restore Bern. Together."

"Right." Guinivere tries to smile back. "But...be careful, please."

"I always am." Melady kisses her, and Guinivere's lips follow hers even after she pulls away. "We'll be back as soon as we can."

Roy shouts a command, and the Lycian-Etrurian army moves out, a blur of shapes eventually swallowed by the snow. Guinivere steps back into the relative shelter of an open-air tent and waits. Merlinus shuffles through his supplies.

She hates the waiting. The buildup, the plans, the hours spent poring over maps and throwing strategies back and forth with Roy, Lilina, Elffin, and Cecilia - that she can do. She can help there. But out here on the battlefield, she's no good at all. There's nothing to do but wait, and hope.

Hours pass, with only the howl of wind and snow, until Merlinus shouts something and points.

Two wyverns are arcing through the sky towards them through the frigid winds, and Guinivere's heart soars - and then as they get closer, she realizes one has an empty saddle, and the other has two figures. One is clad in blue and supporting another in red across its lap.

Horrible, cold fear rises in Guinivere's throat, and she's running towards the wyverns as they land, stumbling and sliding in the snow, even as Merlinus shouts after her. Zeiss gets off his wyvern and sinks to his knees under the weight of the figure in his arms - the red, red, too red, horribly red -

"Melady!" Guinivere screams, racing towards them. Zeiss lifts his head, and his face is streaked with tears -

_\- no, no, not her, never her, anyone but her, she can't lose her, she can't, and the blood surrounds her, chokes her, drowns her in red -_

"She's breathing," Zeiss gasps out as Guinivere comes skidding on her knees in front of them. "But - but only just. There was a squad of snipers, out of nowhere, she - she was protecting me - "

There's so much blood, blood covering Melady's armor, dripping down into the snow and leaving behind stark red stains. An arrow is buried in her shoulder, another in her stomach - Guinivere can't bear to look closer, but she knows the wounds are severe.

Guinivere cups Melady's face in shaking hands. She's deathly pale, and yes, she's breathing, but the breaths are faint and fluttering -

"Elen!" Guinivere screams, heedless of her utter lack of decorum and grace. "Where's Elen!?"

"She's still on the battlefield," Merlinus quivers behind her. "I can - "

"Fetch her! Or Clarine, or Cecilia, or Niime - I don't care - any of them! All of them!" Guinivere barks. "Now!" She doesn't know if Merlinus heeds the order, but she knows if he doesn't, she'll kill him. She'll kill _all_ of them if they take Melady away from her, every last one -

\- _like Zephiel would?_ -

The thought shakes her, and she freezes. No, no, she wouldn't do that. But the rage and fear still claw at her, leaving lines in her flesh, a constant clamor for blood that she's never felt before.

Does Zephiel feel like this all the time?

"It'll be all right," Zeiss chants, like a prayer. "The healers will come, and it'll be all right…" Trifinne leans down, lowering her massive head over Melady's still form, and lets out a piercing cry.

Guinivere presses her forehead to Melady's, breathes in the horrid stink of blood and wyvern. _Don't die. Don't die. Don't die…_

A hand falls on her shoulder. Guinivere whips around, teeth bared, and Merlinus stumbles backwards a few steps, palms raised to shoulder height. "Your Highness - I've sent a messenger to fetch someone, but none of our healers are close - it will be at least fifteen minutes - "

"A pegasus knight, then," says Guinivere.

"There's too many archers, Princess. Zeiss only made it here through sheer chance. Especially with a passenger, they'll just get shot down - "

"I'll go," says Zeiss. "I'll go find someone - "

"No," Guinivere manages. Through the haze of panic, one burning thought echoes: _Protect Zeiss. Melady would want me to protect Zeiss._

"But, Princess Guinivere…"

"I will not allow you to get yourself killed out there," says Guinivere. "You are forbidden to fly."

"Then I'm afraid we've no choice but to wait," says Merlinus softly.

"She'll bleed out!" says Zeiss.

Guinivere draws a deep breath, sitting back on her haunches. "Merlinus. You have the supply caravan, yes?"

"Of course!"

"Then fetch me a staff. The best one you have available. At once."

"What? But, Princess - "

"That was an order!" Guinivere's bloodied hands clench into fists on her lap. "A staff! Here! Now!"

"R-right!" Merlinus hurries off again.

"She's not gonna die," says Zeiss, still staring down at his sister in his arms. "She can't die...she's too strong to die…"

"I won't let her die," says Guinivere.

Zeiss's head snaps up. "Princess?"

"I will not let her die. You have my word on this."

Zeiss stares at her, open-mouthed, and then Merlinus returns, puffing like a wyvern. "Here, Princess, a Recover staff - best I've got - "

Guinivere takes the staff. "Zeiss, lay her flat."

Zeiss obeys, spreading Melady on the snow, still staring at Guinivere like he's never seen her before.

"Now...we need to take the arrows out before I can use the staff." Guinivere draws a deep breath. "And quickly, or she'll bleed out completely."

"Use the staff? You? But you're a - "

"I'm well aware I'm a princess, Zeiss," Guinivere snaps. "Take the arrows out. I'm certain you know how, you were taught in basic training. She's too far gone to feel it."

Zeiss obligingly grips the shaft, pressing a hand to Melady's breastplate.

"I'll charge the spell while you do that. It must be instantaneous if we're to have any hope," says Guinivere, pressing the tip of the staff to her own forehead. "Ready."

"Yes."

"Then, now." Guinivere closes her eyes, and focuses.

She hasn't used a staff in several months, and never outside of a training room. But it must be enough. It has to be enough. She has to be enough. She is all there is.

"Arrows are out!" Zeiss calls, and Guinivere lets the magic go.

It comes out of her in a rush, a gust of warmth that leaves her feeling frigid, and Guinivere can see the flash of pale blue light even through her closed eyelids, hearing only the rush of blood in her head drowning out all other sound.

Guinivere is not Zephiel. She will not hurt. She will not do harm. But she will take all that passion, all that rage, and she will _heal._

The spell completed, Guinivere slumps sideways, emptied staff falling into the snow. Merlinus's arm catches her before she can hit the ground, and she straightens.

She's afraid to open her eyes, but she does.

Zeiss is unstrapping Melady's ruined breastplate and setting it to the side. "Did you do it?"

Guinivere looks carefully at the wounds. "It's hard to tell...but I think the bleeding's stopped."

"Really?" Fresh tears are welling up in Zeiss's eyes. "Are you sure?"

Guinivere presses a hand to Melady's forehead. Her breathing's still shallow, her color still poor, but the blood has stopped coming. "I...I think so. She needs a real healer - "

A clopping of hooves makes Guinivere lift her head, and a breathless Clarine is leaping down from her mount, staff clenched in hand. "I...I'm here! I came as fast as I could! Where's the injured party?"

"Here!" Guinivere calls out, relief beginning to lick at her stomach, and Clarine races over, joining their group in the snow. She studies Melady with a furrowed brow, muttering under her breath, and Guinivere waits, blood-sticky hands clasped to her own chest. _Please, please don't be too late…_

Clarine lowers her staff. "Bring her to the healer's tent, and I'll get her treated. Did someone use a staff on her?"

"Yes…I did." Guinivere falters. "Did it…"

"It was well done," says Clarine. "A bit longer, and she might well have bled to death. I need to get to work, though - you, boy, carry her to the healing tent, and gently! I'll go ahead and get supplies set up." She sets off through the camp, and Zeiss, seemingly uncaring about being called "boy" by a girl half his size and several years younger, hurries after her with Melady cradled in his arms.

Guinivere remains in the snow, staring blankly at nothing. Guinivere had thought she'd known loss, and pain, and fear. But losing Melady - no, nothing in the world could compare to that horror. Trifinne nuzzles her hair with a snort.

Guinivere returns to camp, washes her hands, changes her dress, and then sits quietly outside the healing tent. Eventually, Zeiss, similarly cleaned up, joins her. Neither says a word, even as the rest of the army returns, streaming around them, and Elen races past them into the healing tent. Eventually, Clarine emerges again, but walks right past them, so Guinivere assumes she's been called to duty elsewhere.

"Guinivere. Princess Guinivere!"

Guinivere starts and looks up at Roy, bent over her. "Ah...Lord Roy?"

"I don't have much time, Princess Guinivere," says Roy. "We've just received intelligence that part of Bern's army is hiding in some ruins nearby, and they're after another legendary weapon. We need to get it back before they can make off with it. I'm taking a small squad with me now."

"Ah," says Guinivere. "Yes."

"We're moving camp into Castle Edessa, since we, you know. Seized it. You should come in out of the cold..."

"Melady's still here, so I shall stay here too."

"All right. I'm...very sorry about that." Roy shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. "I'll...be heading out now."

"Right. Be safe." Guinivere lowers her eyes back to her hands in her lap as Roy heads off.

Many more minutes pass in silence, and then the tent flap opens and Elen sticks her head out. "Princess Guinivere? Zeiss? She's stable."

Guinivere nearly skids on the snow as she leaps to her feet, and she and Zeiss hurry in after Elen.

"Clarine has gone up to the castle to treat the rest of our injured," says Elen. "But I thought it best I finish things here."

Melady is lying on a cot, asleep. She's covered in bandages - but alive, and clean of blood, and that, at least, is something.

"Is she okay?" Zeiss croaks out.

"Yes. I've given her an herbal draft to ensure she slept through the surgery, but she should awaken in a few more hours. There was little damage to her internal organs, fortunately. However, her left arm and shoulder will likely never be the same," says Elen. "But at least it was her left. She's right-handed, correct?"

"Yes," says Zeiss. Guinivere can't answer.

"I've asked Commander Echidna and Bartre to stay behind," says Elen. "They'll move her up to the castle. It's warmer and safer there for her, now that she's stable."

"What about on a wyvern?" Zeiss asks.

"I would prefer not. That seems a tad risky. Humans are somewhat more steady, no offense meant."

"None taken. I'll fetch them," says Zeiss, ducking out of the tent. Elen and Guinivere are left in the quiet, staring down at Melady's still form.

"She will wake up, Princess Guinivere," says Elen, her tone soft and gentle. "I promise you that."

Guinivere tries to make words come out of her throat, but they refuse.

Zeiss, Echidna, and Bartre reenter, the latter two carrying a stretcher between them. Under Elen's guidance, Melady is bundled up and carefully moved onto it, and then a long journey through the snow is undertaken, up into Castle Edassa.

As they enter the castle, a hand tugs on Guinivere's sleeve. Surprised, she turns around to see a group of people in heavy cloaks, and among them, two women.

"Excuse me…" says the younger woman. "Are you the one who saved us?"

Guinivere blinks. "No - no, I am…"

The woman grabs her hands. There are tears shining in her eyes. "Thank you! We were being held captive here by those Bern monsters, and it's thanks to you and your army that we're still standing here."

"I…" Guinivere swallows.

The woman pushes a thin silk robe into Guinivere's arms. "Please, accept this token of our gratitude. It's not much, but it's enchanted, and should be of some help."

"Thank you so much," says the older woman, patting Guinivere's arm. Both women turn away and join the rest of the group, filing out of the castle doors.

Guinivere looks down at the robe, then hands it to Merlinus, who has somehow managed to appear nearby at the mention of an enchanted artifact. "Please put this with the convoy, and let Lord Roy know about it when he returns."

"Really?" Merlinus asks, already testing the silk between thumb and forefinger. "She gave it to you, Your Highness…"

"No, she gave it to the person she thought I was. If you will excuse me." Guinivere sets off down the hallway in the direction Melady was carried.

Melady has been brought into a guest room, tucked into a somewhat dusty-looking bed, and made comfortable by Elen's gentle hands. Guinivere only hovers nearby, too scared of doing harm to be any help.

_She almost lost her for good._

Elen straightens up. "I'm going to go check on the rest of our wounded. If you two would like to stay with her, she should wake up in a little while."

"Okay," says Zeiss. "Uh...thanks, Elen. And thank Clarine for me too."

"Of course." Elen leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind her, and Zeiss and Guinivere situate themselves on stools on either side of Melady's sickbed.

There's a streak of bruises down one side of Melady's face. Guinivere reaches out a hand, her fingertips hovering millimeters above them.

"That's where she smacked against my breastplate after the arrows hit her," Zeiss mutters. "She was smart enough to make sure she fell towards me and not over the side of her wyvern."

Guinivere passes over the bruises, instead stroking back Melady's mussed hair.

"I didn't see the archers, but she did. She flew in front of me and chucked her javelin, and she killed him, but his arrow hit her…" Zeiss swallows hard. "And then even with the arrow in her, she kept fighting. She must've killed half of them before the second arrow hit her shoulder and she passed out from blood loss."

Guinivere doesn't really want to hear the details, but she doesn't tell Zeiss that. He seems desperate to confess, like saying the words will somehow change the facts.

"It was my fault," Zeiss mutters. "I wasn't fast enough."

Guinivere swallows down the lump in her throat. "That's not true. You got the both of you out of there, and you brought her back."

Zeiss shifts on his stool. "Princess Guinivere…"

"Yes?"

"I'm...sorry for everything I said earlier. When I arrived, I saw...I saw that look in your eye. I saw how desperate you were. I thought you were gonna kill old Merlinus, actually. It would've been funny if I wasn't so scared."

Guinivere considers denying it, but doesn't.

"Anyway...you really...you really do love her. And you really didn't want to hurt her. I'm sorry. What I said was, uh, rude. And uncalled for."

"Don't worry, Zeiss. I'm not mad." Guinivere looks over at his bowed head. "I understand where you were coming from. I hurt your sister, knowingly. I did not wish to, but I did. It's reasonable that you would be mad."

Zeiss shrugs. "I guess. But Melady would be dead without you. Since you used that staff and all."

"I wouldn't say that," says Guinivere softly. "Without me, she might never have been shot in the first place."

"No, that was my fault."

"It's my fault either of you were on the battlefield at all."

"I'm trying to thank you, Princess. Are you always this stubborn?"

"Yes. And it's caused your poor sister no end of grief." Guinivere smiles at him over Melady's sleeping form, and Zeiss looks nervous, but hesitantly grins back.

"Is this a truce?" he asks.

"Yes, I should think so."

"That's good." Zeiss rubs the back of his head. "It was bugging Melady that I still didn't trust you."

"Do you trust me now?"

"I guess. I always trusted Melady, and I believed that you were genuine about wanting to help Bern. But I wasn't sure if you really loved Melady, or if you were just using her all along."

"I do love her," says Guinivere quietly. "There are few things I am certain of these days, but that is one of them."

"I didn't before, but...now, I can believe that." They fall into quiet, and some time passes. Guinivere stares out the window, watching Fae and Igrene build a snowman.

There's a low moan from the bed, and Guinivere and Zeiss both immediately lean forward. Melady's eyelids are fluttering. "Guini…"

"I'm here, I'm right here." Guinivere bends over the bed, taking Melady's right hand as she feebly lifts it from the covers and clasping it in both of hers.

Melady's bleary eyes open and try to focus on her. "Is...is Zeiss…"

"I'm fine," says Zeiss quickly. "Thanks to you. I'm not hurt at all."

"That's...good…" Melady blinks a few times, and winces. "Ugh."

"Yeah, your face is pretty banged up, but it'll heal," says Zeiss. "You're okay."

Melady tries to take a deep breath, but can't seem to manage it. "Did we win…? Is Ilia…"

"Yeah, we won. It'll all be okay now. Just rest." Zeiss manages a shaky smile. "I'm gonna go tell Elen you're awake." He gets to his feet and leaves the room.

"Ugh…" Melady's face is pinched. "I feel like a wyvern sat on me. Oh - is Trifinne - "

"She's fine too. We couldn't bring her in the castle, though. Apparently Zealot doesn't want to clean wyvern dung off his carpets," Guinivere tries to joke, even though she wants to cry. "I'm so glad you're all right. It was touch and go for a bit there."

"I…" Melady tries to move again, and grimaces. "I can't really feel my left arm…"

Guinivere swallows. "Yes...Elen says there's some permanent damage there. It'll get better, but it probably won't be the same again."

"Well...that's not so terrible, I suppose." Melady shifts in the bed. "Where are we, exactly?"

"In Edessa Castle," Guinivere answers.

"Oh...that makes sense. Sorry...my head's all foggy."

"That's fine, love," says Guinivere, lifting one hand off Melady's to stroke her hair again. "You don't need to worry about it. Just try and get some rest."

"Guinivere…?"

"Yes?"

"Can you...come closer?"

Guinivere climbs onto the bed next to Melady, lying down next to her. "Like this?"

"Little closer."

Guinivere scoots forward until she's lying flush against Melady. "How about now?"

"Perfect." Melady's eyes are closing again as she tucks her head against Guinivere's shoulder. "Please...don't go."

"I won't. I'm right here. I won't…" Guinivere swallows thickly. "I won't leave you again."

***

"I'm feeling much better," says Melady. "Honestly."

"Elen says it will be at least two more days before you can train again," says Guinivere, opening the guest room's velvet curtains. "And we're not setting off for a little while, anyway - we have to get everything in order here in Ilia. Zealot has his work cut out for him. You're not missing out on anything, believe me."

Melady grumbles, sounding rather like Trifinne. She's wearing a sleeping shift, her hair mussed as she sits up in bed. Guinivere finds it adorable.

Guinivere seats herself on the side of the bed. "Cheer up. I'll keep you company."

"Lovely company, but I don't like the idea of getting rusty." Melady absently plays with the hem of her blanket.

"Oh, you could never be rusty." Guinivere leans across the bed, kissing her. The kiss starts gentle, but Melady lifts her right hand and cups Guinivere's face, tugging her closer.

"Well," Melady muses when they part, "there are other ways to pass the time…"

"Elen said no physical exertion of any kind."

Melady groans, flinging her arm over her face dramatically as she leans back against the headboard. "This is _dreadful."_

"Sorry, love."

Melady peers out from under her forearm. "I'll live."

Guinivere pets her knee under the covers. "Are you doing all right? Aside from your injuries...you're recovering okay, mentally?"

"I won't lie and say it wasn't scary. Zeiss being in danger was a lot worse than getting hit myself, though."

"That does sound like you."

"But I'm okay. I might be a little weaker now, but I know I can make up for it. I was trained well. And how are _you_ doing?"

"Me?"

"We haven't really talked, since...all that." Melady gestures vaguely with her good arm. "I wanted to make sure you were feeling okay."

"Ah, well...I'm fine. I'm not the one who was injured."

"Zeiss talked to me about what happened. When I was...out. You weren't fine then."

"Of course I wasn't! But you're safe now, and that's what matters." Guinivere manages a tremulous smile.

"Guinivere…"

"Yes, it was...very distressing to see you hurt. And you nearly died. But...but you didn't. So it's okay." Guinivere sighs. "Besides, I always knew...I always knew your life was at risk every time you took to the battlefield. I'm coping all right."

"I know you're trying to act strong," says Melady gently. "I know you're trying to be...a pillar. That's your duty as the princess of Bern. But it's just me. You can tell me the truth."

"I…" Guinivere sighs. "This is going to sound dreadful."

"It's okay. Just let it out."

"I wasn't only scared, when I saw you hurt. I was also...angry. Furious. A part of me...wanted to kill everyone there, so they could feel how I was feeling." Guinivere's hand clenches on the blanket. "I felt...like Zephiel."

"I see."

"I felt like...if you died, I would let the whole world burn. No, not just let it burn. Destroy it, with my own two hands. In that moment...I wholeheartedly intended to." Guinivere takes a deep breath, holds it, and continues. "But I didn't, of course. It didn't pass, but I...fought through it. I focused on you, saving you, and in the end, you were all right. Still, those thoughts...were very frightening. I was...I was thinking like Zephiel does. That the whole world should suffer in exchange for my pain."

"It's because they're frightening that you're not like Zephiel," says Melady, reaching down and covering Guinivere's hand with her own. "I don't think he's second-guessed himself once since he started this whole mess. You aren't your thoughts. It's your actions that matter. And even if I'd died there...you wouldn't have acted on those thoughts. I know that. If I didn't know that...I wouldn't be following you."

Guinivere manages a small smile. "You're probably right."

"I _know_ I'm right. You saved my life, you know." Melady strokes her thumb over the back of Guinivere's hand. "You used your pain...to help instead of to harm. That's what makes the difference between you and people like Zephiel."

"Thank you, Melady."

"For what?"

"For your words. For following me. For living. For everything. Thank you." Guinivere brings her free hand to brush against Melady's face. "I vow to be worthy of the trust you've placed in me."

"And I vow to be someone worth the life you've given me." Melady tilts her head up, and Guinivere takes the hint, leaning forward to kiss her again.

***

"My, some of these Ilian markets could nearly be found in Lycia and Etruria," Merlinus trills, gazing at a length of fine satin. "And here I thought Ilia a desolate wasteland!"

"This is the capital, after all, Merlinus," says Lilina, poring over a selection of fruits. "There was bound to be a market!"

"Hmm...you're more patient than your father, my dear. He used to nag me for taking too long to collect war materials!" Merlinus shakes his head. "Four hours is hardly adequate time to find the best possible deals!"

"Yes, yes." Lilina makes a face at Guinivere behind Merlinus's back. "I think I saw a vulnerary stand that way…"

"Oh! Right, Master Roy's shopping list! I nearly forgot!" Merlinus bustles away.

"He's always the same." Lilina shakes her head. "Father _hated_ shopping with him."

"It's a bit overwhelming," Guinivere says, shifting a few of Merlinus's parcels from arm to arm. "I just wanted to get out of the castle for a bit…"

Lilina laughs. "Well, you got that, at least."

"I suppose I did." Guinivere tightens her scarf against the Ilian chill. "Did you find anything you wanted?"

"Oh, I wasn't really looking for anything…" Lilina's eyes look a little glazed. "Father...had never been to Ilia. He'd visited Etruria and Bern, of course, and once we went to Sacae to see an aunt of mine, but...he always talked about going to Ilia and seeing their arenas…I thought I'd try and do a little sightseeing for him."

Guinivere tries to think of something to say, and fails miserably.

"Don't make that face! I'm okay." Lilina swings a shopping bag from her arm. "Did you want to get anything for Melady? How's she doing?"

"Elen said she's healing nicely," says Guinivere. "I did like the idea of bringing her back a sweet or something, but...I'm afraid I didn't have much of anything in mind."

Lilina looks around the stalls. "Hey, want to go look at jewelry?"

"Jewelry?"

"You know...it's romantic, isn't it? Or, well, just to look. Pretty, sparkly...passes the time." Lilina shrugs. "If you don't want to, that's fine…"

"No, no. Did you see a stall you wanted to look in?"

"Back that way!" Lilina claps mitten-clad hands together. "Come on…"

They find the indicated stall quickly - it's small and a little shabby, but the wares are indeed sparkly. Lilina coos over a set of opal earrings while Guinivere looks up and down the racks.

"That's a pretty circlet you're wearing, ma'am," says the shopkeeper. "I can tell you're a connoisseur of these things…"

"Oh - oh, yes." Guinivere really should have taken that off before coming here. "Thank you."

The shopkeeper bows. "Anything you want, just ask. Sales haven't been great lately, with the war and all. I'm parting with these beauties for cheap."

"Oh, cheap!" says Lilina. "That's good. Merlinus didn't give us a lot of spending money."

Guinivere manages a smile, and then turns back to the display table. There's a row of rings here, and Guinivere's eyes slide over them almost automatically…

...until she comes to the one on the end. It's gold, or gold-colored, anyway, with a small, shimmering ruby set into it. The stone's tiny, but lovely - as Guinivere leans in, she can see shimmers of light reflecting off its facets. The band of the ring is carved into the shape of simple leaves, twining around the ruby.

And it's...perfect. Guinivere wasn't even looking for it. But it makes her think of Melady.

She can picture it on Melady's finger.

The thought hits Guinivere hard enough to make her waver with shock. She hadn't been thinking about buying anything. She hadn't been thinking about...giving Melady a ring. Or anything that entailed. But…

"Oh, that's so lovely!" Lilina gasps, appearing at her elbow. "Can we take a closer look?"

"Of course, of course." The shopkeeper lifts the ring from the display and hands it to Guinivere. She tilts it slightly, watching the shine change in the light.

"I probably don't have the money for it, anyway," Guinivere manages, her head spinning with the rush of awareness that seeing the ring had brought. "And it's an impulsive purchase…"

"Well, like I said, people aren't rushing to buy jewelry during a war," says the shopkeeper thoughtfully, resting a finger against her chin. "So I'm being generous with my prices. What do you have on you?"

Lilina pulls out her money bag. "I'll pool with you, Guinivere! I'm...still carrying around the last allowance Father gave me, actually. Plus what Merlinus gave me."

"I can't ask you to - "

Lilina waves her hand. "Call it an advance coronation gift! Er, I mean...an advance...birthday gift! Yeah!"

The shopkeeper doesn't seem to have noticed Lilina's slip, staring almost hungrily at the purse. Guinivere reaches into her own pocket and produces her wallet, hands shaking a little.

Lilina empties the contents of both onto the counter and tallies them quickly. "It's...a little under 1,500 gold. Is that enough?"

"That'll do!" says the shopkeeper quickly, pulling out a sack from under the display case. "It's yours!" She scoops the money into her sack and then passes Guinivere a small velvet-lined box. "And a case, on the house! I normally charge for those, you know. But you two are my first customers to actually buy something in...awhile, actually, so you get a special treat!"

"Thank you," says Guinivere, placing the ring carefully in the box and stowing it in her robes. "And thank you, Lilina."

Lilina beams. "No problem!"

The shopkeeper waves as they leave. "Pleasure doing business with you! Tell them Anna sold it to you!"

"When are you going to give it to her?" Lilina asks as they set back off down the market streets in search of Merlinus.

Guinivere feels her face heat up. "Er...to her?"

"I know you want to give it to Melady." Lilina taps the side of her nose. "I'm very intuitive, you know. Roy got _really_ mad when I figured out about his crush on Wolt. I mean - whoops."

"I won't tell him you told me."

"Thanks...but I'm right about you and Melady, aren't I? I mean, everyone knows you two are together, I just meant...that you want to give her that ring. And. You know."

"...Yes," Guinivere admits. "But we haven't been reunited for very long, and there's much to do. I would like the timing to be good, and adequately...romantic. So I'm afraid it won't be happening any time soon."

"Well, when it does, I want to come to the wedding, okay? I love weddings."

"Of course. I do appreciate your discretion, however."

"Oh, my lips are sealed. I won't tell a soul."

"Lady Lilina! Princess Guinivere! There you are!" Merlinus comes panting up to them. "I've looked all over! Wherever did you two wander off to?"

"You're one to talk, old man," says Lilina, but there's a gentle lilt to her tone that softens the words from insult to mere nickname. "I can never keep track of you!"

"Hmph." Merlinus dusts off his robes. "If you two are quite done wandering about, we have a list to finish."

"Of course, of course. At your service." Lilina bobs a curtsy, and then she and Guinivere set off alongside Merlinus.

The box in Guinivere's pocket is a gentle, comforting weight. A promise. A hope. A future.

***

"We're going to fight General Murdock's forces now," says Roy grimly. "He stands between us and the Binding Blade. It seems we have no other option."

Guinivere swallows. "He's a terrible foe, Roy."

"I know. We'll do all we can to end the fight quickly. And Bishop Yoder will be assisting us, which will be a great help." Roy turns to speak with Merlinus, and Guinivere hurries over to the flying regiment.

Melady has a grim expression as she buckles Trifinne's saddle. She's healed up since the horrible battle in Edessa, but her left arm still doesn't quite move as well as it once did. A small price to pay, Melady says, waving off Guinivere's concern. And she's more than battle-ready. Still, that's not what concerns Guinivere now.

"We're facing Murdock," says Guinivere. "So…"

"Yes." Melady's jaw is set. "Galle...will most likely be here."

Next to her, Zeiss is rubbing his wyvern's head, his expression similarly solemn. "Maybe we can convince him…"

"Of what?" Melady sighs. "I won't raise my lance against him if I don't have to, but I know he'll never defect, and he'll go down fighting to his last breath. Zeiss, if it comes down to it, you mustn't let your guard down."

"I won't." Zeiss sets his jaw. "If I have to fight Galle...I'll fight Galle. I can do it. I know I can."

"Please take care, both of you." Guinivere rises on tiptoe to kiss Melady. Zeiss makes a gagging noise under his breath as he climbs onto his wyvern's back.

"Don't worry," says Melady, smiling as she pulls back. Her eyes are still sad. "We're with you to the end."

"I know. I believe in you." Guinivere steps away, and waves as they take off with the pegasus knights, becoming specks in the sky.

She doesn't doubt Melady's prowess in battle, even after her injury.

Really, it's Melady's heart she's worried about.

***

"It's over! Murdock has fallen!"

As the army cheers and celebrates, Guinivere walks forward onto the bloody battlefield, heart in her throat.

Lilina is running towards her, coming to a halt a few feet ahead. "Oh, Princess Guinivere - "

"Did something happen?" Fear claws at Guinivere's heart.

"No, no. No casualties on our end, we're regrouping before we go to find the Binding Blade, but - well…" Lilina lowers her eyes, holding her tome against her chest. "I went to find you, and...I think you should come with me."

"Ah," says Guinivere. "I think I see."

"Yes...this way." Lilina leads her through the battlefield, weaving between trees, mountains and bodies. Soldiers call out greetings as they pass, but Guinivere scarcely hears them.

Two wyverns are huddled in a mountain's towering shadow. As Guinivere draws closer, she can make out a few figures kneeling beside them.

Zeiss, his body shaking with sobs, is bent over a sheet-covered figure. Elen is seated at Zeiss's side, a hand resting on his shoulder. Just visible among the grass are a few strands of long, deep blue hair, laced with blood.

Melady, on her knees, turns at the sound of Guinivere's approach. Her face is red, tears shining on her cheeks as she stumbles to her feet and then flings herself into Guinivere's arms.

Guinivere cradles her, feeling her own body tremble with the force of Melady's grief. She seems beyond words.

"That idiot…" Zeiss chokes out. "He just...charged right in...we both tried to reason with him, but…"

"It's neither of your fault," says Guinivere gently. "I'm so sorry."

Zeiss scrubs a hand across his eyes. "He got hit with arrows...magic...there was blood all over...we shouted at him to stand down...and he just kept coming at us. I was trying to fend off his attacks...and Melady came up behind him...and..."

Melady sobs, the horrible sound ripping through her body and into Guinivere's.

"If she hadn't done it, he might've killed me. Might've killed all of us." Zeiss stares at what once was Galle. "I wanted to beat him in a battle, man-to-man, one day...now, I'll never get to…"

"I'm so sorry," Guinivere repeats, stroking Melady's hair. "I'm so, so sorry…"

Melady's fingers curl into Guinivere's robe as she chokes out another gasp, and Guinivere holds her, and wishes she could do more.

***

"Are you feeling better?" Guinivere asks gently, stepping under the flap of her and Melady's shared tent. "I brought you dinner…"

"Thank you." Melady is sitting on her bedroll, armor off and knees curled up to her chest. She sounds as though she has a bad cold.

Guinivere sets the bowl down and sits next to Melady, curling her legs beneath her. "I'm here if you want to talk."

Melady sniffles. "I...I don't know what there is to say. I knew it would end this way. I just...the feeling of my lance going into him...that was a terrible feeling. I've done it to other people, and I didn't enjoy it, but…"

"But they were strangers."

"Yes, and trying to kill me. But so was he. I had to do it. I don't regret doing it. I just wish...I wish things could have been different." Melady leans against Guinivere. "I know...I know you feel the same way. About...your brother."

"I do."

"I'll always miss Galle," Melady mumbles into Guinivere's collar. "He was my best friend. But I'll move forward. He would want me to...and I want to. I want to live, with you and with Zeiss, and I want to see the new Bern you build."

"I want that, too."

"I wonder if my father will ever forgive me and Zeiss…" Melady sighs, her breath fluttering the curls of Guinivere's hair. "We're traitors, after all. He's probably appalled."

Guinivere strokes Melady's hand.

"All I wanted...was for him, and for Galle...to be proud of me." Melady's fingers idly play with the fabric of Guinivere's skirt. "Look where I am now…"

"For what it's worth, if anything...I'm very proud of you, Melady." Guinivere hugs Melady against her chest. "So, so proud. You've done incredible things, over and over, since we were children...I am so, so proud, to know you. To be your friend, and your lover."

"I'm proud of you, too." Melady's hand comes up to twine loosely in one of Guinivere's curls. "You've done...impossible things to get here. We both have."

"Let's do the most impossible thing of all...and save Elibe."

"Yes." Melady cranes her neck up, and Guinivere takes the invitation, leaning down to kiss her. "Together."

***

For the first time in over a year, Guinivere gazes up at Bern Keep. It stands more tall and imposing than it ever had before, looming out of the broken cliffs.

Melady holds Guinivere for a long moment before they part, Melady climbing onto Trifinne's back and heading off to join her squadron. There are no words exchanged this time. There don't need to be any.

"Princess Guinivere," says Roy, walking up to her. The Binding Blade is strapped to his hip, shining even in its sheath. "Are you ready?"

"I am."

"And you're certain of this? I will attempt to spare Zephiel's life if I can, but...it is likely one of us will not be able to walk away alive."

Images chase each other through Guinivere's head. Of the broken wreath on her mother's grave, of Hellene's suicide note, of her father falling to the ground at her brother's feet...of the Araphen orphans hiding behind each other whenever she walked past them, of the streets laden with refugees and churchyards heavy with graves, of the Ilian hostages thanking her with tears in their eyes, of Marquess Hector, broken and bloodied, calling out for a daughter he never saw again.

It's time for all of this to end.

Guinivere sets her shoulders, standing tall and proud, the way a princess of Bern should. "Let's go, Lord Roy."

"Very well." Roy removes the Binding Blade from its scabbard and raises it above his head. "Men of Lycia! Men of Etruria! Men of Ilia! Men of Sacae! Men of Bern! Men of Arcadia! We stand as one, to unseat the tyrannical King Zephiel of Bern, and to save our lands! Together, we will liberate Elibe! Now, are you with me?"

Everyone cheers, weapons lifted above heads.

"Then we march! United armies of Elibe...charge!"

The battering ram swings, Bern Keep's doors fall open...and Roy leads his army into Guinivere's home.

***

Guinivere spends the next several hours in Merlinus's tent, knees curled to her chest as Merlinus rifles through his supplies.

"Don't worry," says Merlinus. "Master Roy is strong enough. He'll be able to do this."

Guinivere doesn't answer. She can't bring herself to.

"You'll see, it'll all be fine," Merlinus repeats, polishing a shining-clean sword. "It'll all be fine..."

"Guinivere."

Melady is standing at the tent door. Her face says all she needs to say.

Merlinus springs to his feet. "Melady! Did Master Roy - "

"Yes. The king of Bern...has fallen." Melady's eyes do not leave Guinivere's. "The fighting has ended. If you would both accompany me to the throne room."

"Yes." Guinivere gets to her feet. Her hands are trembling, her heart in her throat. "Let us...let us go."

They march through the halls of Guinivere's childhood together. It's a terrible wreck, lined with bodies and blood, but Guinivere ignores it all, focusing instead on taking one step forward, another, another.

Melady is by her side. That simple fact grants her strength.

"Are you certain you wish to enter the throne room, Princess?" Merlinus carries on talking behind her. "After all - "

Guinivere doesn't bother answering, or listening.

It takes an eternity before they are at the throne room doors, left slightly ajar. Melady only shoots Guinivere the briefest glance before pushing them open.

Roy, Lilina, and a few others are standing inside in a tight group. They turn at the sound of their entry, a bit disheveled but largely safe.

"Princess Guinivere," says Roy solemnly. "It is done." He drops to one knee, holding out a massive scepter in both hands to her. Eckesachs, in its resting form. It's somewhat bloodied.

Guinivere only nods to him.

"The sword is yours, if you wish it," says Roy. "Only one of the Bern royal line can wield it."

"I know nothing of swords, and - " Guinivere stops. "Keep it as a token, if you wish." _There is too much blood on that blade._ "Now, may I…?"

"Oh, of course!" Roy scrambles out of her path, and Guinivere walks towards the body lying on the floor. She stares down at it.

Zephiel looks...almost peaceful. His armor is broken and burned in several places, and a dreadful wound is gouged through his chest, blood forming a pool beneath him on the floor. His visible skin is a mess of bruises. But...there is almost a smile on his face, as though his blank eyes are staring into something beautiful.

He won't rise from the coffin this time.

_My king takes yours._

_For the first time...checkmate, Brother._

"I tried to reason with him," Roy says from behind her. "I...apologize."

"There is no need to apologize," Guinivere says, surprised by the steadiness of her own voice. She slowly lowers herself to her knees and pulls Zephiel's head into her lap. "He chose this path. I think...this may have been what he wanted all along. Not merely mankind's doom...but his own."

"I pity him," says Roy quietly.

 _You do, don't you?_ Guinivere wonders. _Every horrible thing he has done, all the suffering he has wrought, the monster he became...and yet, in your heart, you can find the compassion to have pity._

_Boy or man, you would have the world in your hands if you only wanted it._

Soft footsteps pad up beside Guinivere, and she stares as Lilina crouches beside Zephiel's body. She reaches out a hand over Zephiel's face and gently slides his eyes shut.

"What...why?" Guinevere manages. "Why…?"

"He looked like he was in pain," says Lilina softly. "That looks better. Now he can rest."

"But...he killed your father!" Guinivere bursts out. "He killed your…"

Lilina looks up at her, her blue eyes gentle and sad. "He did. I hate him for it. More than I've ever hated anyone. But you loved him. And you're my friend. I don't hate you. I don't want you to hurt. I didn't want him dead." She gets to her feet. "I'm sorry for your loss, Princess Guinivere."

Guinivere can't think of a single way to answer that. Lilina pats her shoulder gently, a gesture of quiet understanding, and then walks back to her spot near Roy.

"I'm sorry. I know we must discuss our next move. But...may I have...a moment alone?" Guinivere manages.

"Of course," says Roy quietly. "Come along, Merlinus, Lilina. We'll be in the war room."

Guinivere nods. They file out, Lilina softly shutting the door behind them.

Melady doesn't go. Guinivere didn't need to tell her not to. She knew.

Guinivere returns her gaze to Zephiel's face. With his eyes closed, the last of the suffering seems to be gone. He could be asleep. Guinivere swallows hard.

"I'm here, Guinivere," says Melady softly, sitting down beside her.

"He's dead…I knew it was coming."

"Yes."

"He was a good person. A kind person. My father, the world...broke him. And I had to...for the rest of my life, I'll know...I didn't wield the blade, but I killed my brother."

Melady slips an arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, holding her gently, a warm, sturdy presence.

Tears begin to form in Guinivere's eyes. "Why was I so foolish? Why didn't I do something...intervene...help him?"

Melady doesn't answer. She doesn't need to.

"I loved him. I love him. I should have...told him that...more often…" Guinivere blinks hard against the tears rolling down her face. "But it doesn't matter. In the end, he made his choices...and I made mine. And I know mine were the right ones."

Melady holds her tighter.

"He was a warmongering monster," Guinivere swallows, "and when I leave this room, I will declare him as such. He will be forgotten to history, remembered only as an evil, abominable tyrant, and his deeds decried as wicked and inhuman. None will mourn him. As...as it should be. But here...in this room…"

"Only I am here, Guinivere." Melady whispers. "Here, you can say, and you can act...however you like."

"I...I'm sorry..." Guinivere gasps out, leaning forward and embracing Zephiel's head, pressing her forehead to his still one. "I'm so...so...sorry...Brother...I..."

Guinivere wails, mourns the brother she loved, and only Melady hears.

***

"I suppose this is goodbye, Princess Guinivere," says Roy. "Just for now."

"Yes," says Guinivere. "But you'll be invited to my coronation, of course. Once we get that sorted out."

"I will look forward to it," says Roy. He grew taller than her at some point, Guinivere notes.

"Farewell, Princess Guinivere!" Merlinus is sniffling into a massive handkerchief. "I...I hope we meet again!"

Lilina leans over towards Guinivere. "Good luck! With...you know. And your coronation!"

"Yes...thank you, Lady Lilina." Guinivere looks over the crowd. Melady is bowing to Bishop Yoder, and Zeiss is shaking hands with one of the Sacaen nomads. Elen is bent down, talking with a short boy wrapped in a brown cloak. There's two green-haired boys standing next to him.

"Could you wait here for a moment, Roy? There's something I wish to get from the castle," says Guinivere.

"Oh, of course."

Guinivere hurries into the castle, down the damaged halls, and into the room she still thinks of as her father's study. The massive vault doors are locked, but Guinivere remembers the stones to press that force them open. It's far more bare inside than Guinivere remembers it being, but there's a few piles of coins still scattered about. Guinivere picks up a bag and scoops one of the small heaps inside before rushing back out the keep doors.

The boys are still standing where she last saw them, and Guinivere walks over, trying to seem nonthreatening. Still, the yellow-clad twin's eyes widen when he sees her, and he scrambles behind his brother.

"What do you want?" The brunette boy steps in front of the other two.

"...Chad, isn't it?"

"Yeah. What is it?"

"Just...here." Guinivere hands him the bag. "Take this. I wish it was more."

Chad blinks. "Wait, what?"

"I heard about what happened to your home...some time ago. This is for the three of you." Guinivere steps back. "I hope it helps."

Chad weighs the bag in his hands. "I've...never even _seen_ this much gold before."

"I know it cannot replace what you've lost. But...but please, accept it. It...it's the least I can do. I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Princess Guinivere," says the yellow-clad twin, stepping forward. "We...we really appreciate it." He elbows his brother.

"Thanks," the black-clad twin grumbles, rubbing the spot. "That _hurt_ , Lugh. I was gonna thank her anyway, you don't have to - "

"Yeah...yeah, thanks." Chad is still staring at the sack, like it'll disappear if he looks away. "With this...yeah, it'll really help."

"I'm glad. Take care, you three." Guinivere nods to them and then turns away, walking back to Roy.

"We'll be setting off now," says Roy. Behind him, the army is climbing onto their mounts.

"Farewell, all of you." Guinivere bows. "I can never...I can never thank you enough. For everything. You're always welcome at Bern Keep."

Roy waves one last time, and then his army rides away, over the horizon. Guinivere and the others wave until they're out of sight before reentering the hauntingly empty Bern Keep.

"It's all over." Melady sighs.

"I'll...have to start planning a coronation tomorrow." Guinivere looks around the cavernous, battle-damaged foyer.

"That can wait. Just the march back here from the dragon temple was more than enough. And that was after all the battles…" Zeiss groans and stretches.

"That poor girl...the Dark Dragon," Elen murmurs. "Do you think she'll be all right?"

"She was trying to kill us, Elen," says Zeiss.

"But her eyes were so sad…" Elen wrings her hands.

"Roy says he's bringing her to Arcadia," says Guinivere. "If anyone can help her, they can."

"That's good," says Elen. "I hope she can get better."

"I can't believe Lord Roy and the others already setting off." Melady runs a hand along the pockmarked stone wall. "After all that..."

"Yes…" Guinivere leans against the wall. "But it's over now. At least, the war is. It still doesn't seem real…"

Melady lifts a weary hand to cup Guinivere's face. "You doing okay?"

Guinivere manages a shrug. "I...I think I'm rather in shock. It's all over, and Elibe is safe. But there's still so much to be done."

"We'll do it together, won't we?" Elen folds her hands. "All of us...and everyone in Bern who wants a new future...together, we can do it. I know we can."

"You've got enough optimism for all of us," Zeiss sighs. "Can you lend me some?"

"I would be happy to," says Elen, so seriously that they all stare at her, and then a smile spreads across her face, and the dam breaks, and all four of them laugh, far harder than is warranted, drunk on victory and exhaustion, their voices filling up the castle's hollow skeleton.

"We're alive," Zeiss mumbles, as their laughter dies down. "I can hardly believe it."

"We really are." Melady wraps an arm around Guinivere's shoulders. "We paid a price...but we're still alive."

"Thank Elimine," Elen murmurs.

"Thank you all," says Guinivere. "For leaving your country behind, for helping me, for your kindness and support...for everything. It has meant so much to me."

"I would do it all again," says Melady, and the other two nod.

"Tomorrow…" Guinivere swallows. "Tomorrow, we'll get to work. It will be a long, difficult journey. Will you all be at my side?"

"Yes, Your Highness." Elen curtsies. "I am honored to help."

"I'll do what I can." Zeiss nods. "For Bern...and for Galle, too."

"...Of course." Melady kisses Guinivere's temple. "Forever."

"Then…" Guinivere smiles. "Go get some rest."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Zeiss yawns. "Hey, can I just sleep in a fancy royal guest room?"

"Feel free." Guinivere waves a hand. "You too, Elen. Take your pick. At least for tonight."

"Goodnight, Princess." Elen and Zeiss hurry off.

"Shall we retire too?" Melady mumbles, head resting on Guinivere's.

"...Yes." Guinivere sighs, but there's a warmth in her stomach despite the desolate surroundings. "Let's…go home."

***

"Queen Guinivere."

"I'm still not used to that."

"It's only been hours, Your Majesty."

"Do stop calling me that, Melady."

"I apologize. I wanted to see how it felt." Melady's tone has a light, joking edge. "I quite like the sound of it, actually."

Guinivere turns from her spot beside the rose bush. "Then, _General_ Melady, did you enjoy today's festivities?"

Melady, still wearing ceremonial dress armor, taps a finger against her chin. "While they were rather dull, the queen was remarkably beautiful."

"Was she, now."

"Yes. And wise. I nearly shed tears during her speech." Melady takes Guinivere's hands. "I think she'll lead our country well."

The sunset is glowing behind Melady, oranges and pinks mixing together like a watercolor painting, and Guinivere can't stop watching her. "I hope she will."

"I'll be at your side every step of the way," says Melady. "You know that...but I'm saying it again, anyway."

"It's nice to hear." Guinivere smiles. "I am not the coward my father was. I will not just restore Bern to its former glory. I will build a better Bern. A kinder, safer Bern. And it will be...difficult. This isn't an easy path I've dragged you down."

"I chose this path of my own free will, and I would choose it again. Every time."

"I love you."

"And I you."

"Melady…" Guinivere pauses. "Could you...pick me a rose?"

Melady raises her eyebrows. "Of course. Just a moment." She steps past Guinivere toward the rose bush, reaching up to pluck a bloom from a high branch. "Are you returning to our roots…?" She turns around, and the words die in her throat. Guinivere is holding out a small, velvet-lined box.

"I'm afraid I cannot kneel in this gown," says Guinivere. "But, regardless."

The rose falls from Melady's fingers as she lifts a shaking hand to her mouth.

"I had speeches in mind," says Guinivere. "I purchased this ring back in Ilia. But I could not think of the proper words to go with it. What words could possibly name how I feel about you? You are...you are my best friend. My partner. My...my world. For over a decade, I have loved you. What words could ever encompass that?"

Tears are welling up in Melady's eyes, and Guinivere's own, too, but she blinks them away and forges onward. "I know there will be opposition. But I do not fear it. I may give my whole life to Bern...but love will be my own choice. And I choose you. A thousand times over...I'll always choose you."

Melady is already nodding, a beautiful smile spreading across her face as tears continue to fall.

Guinivere returns the smile, her hand shaking on the ring box. "Will you marry me?"

"...Of course." Melady wipes her eyes as Guinivere slips the ruby ring onto her extended hand. "I didn't expect...I…"

"I'm full of surprises, aren't I?"

"You are." Melady laughs. "You certainly are. Come here."

Guinivere laughs too, and Melady leans down and picks her up, lifts her in a bridal carry and twirls her around, Guinivere leaning up to kiss her even as they both keep laughing, words beyond them both. And in the garden where they met, where it all began, there is a new beginning.

Guinivere's favorite color is red.

Red like Melady's hair in the wind, red like the shine of her newly-polished armor, red like her lips and eyes and cheeks, red like the warmth that sparks in Guinivere's heart when their eyes meet, and prettiest of all - red like the love that saw them both through the war, like the love that blooms between them now, a beautiful, disorganized mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Some scenes/details were inspired by the Binding Blade spinoff manga, if you happened to recognize them.  
> \- I went with Ilia route because it's apparently the route treated as "default" by the game if you've got even EXP between the candidates. No real impact on the plot of this fic, but there needed to be a setting. Also, blood on show, very #aesthetic  
> \- Thank you so, so much for reading! I didn't intend this fic to be such a monster when I first started writing it, but sometimes things get away from me and I write 40k about characters that have maybe ten lines about/to each other in canon haha


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